Another Life
by TGP
Summary: When Severus Snape extracted one Harry Potter from the muggles, he had no idea that action would start the greatest change in the war with Voldemort. SLASH
1. The Heartfelt Affair

**Another Life**

**A/N:** Written as a response to the Serpent's Challenge. I've never done a challenge fic before, but I'll definitely try my best. Conditions of the challenge will be posted in my bottom ANs as I reach them. Thank ye muchly.  
**Warnings:** Yaoi/Slash, Angst, DARK themes, Backstabbing, Incest, Yuri/Fem-slash, and other various nastiness. Hard R rating.  
**Disclaimer:** Ain't mine.

**Thanks to SailorChibi for betaing!!**

**Prologue  
The Heartfelt Affair**

There was nothing quite like feeling her neck pulsing under his lips. Sensing that thundering heartbeat, so strong and wild, was positively intoxicating. The smell of her breath, her tears, her sweat: it was an aroma that soared above all others. It was more enthralling than the most expensive perfumes. Her soft moans, gasped wails, sobbed cries were music to his ears; their meetings on that enormous, crimson shod bed were his salvation. Her fiery hair was a shining halo that framed her head; the beautiful ivory skin flushed with desire and need as the glorious eyes sparkled.

The best part of all was that she was his.

She glorified in it.

At last, the build-up was complete. They came down from that magnificent high with panting breaths and whispered promises that they knew could never be kept. She could not stay. He could not keep her, no matter how much they desired it. She was the goddess of his life and he, in return, the god of hers. Together, they could have been unstoppable.

Could have. Would have. Should have.

Weren't.

They showered, running shaking hands over skin and through hair to memorize each other for the long time that they would be apart. They dressed one another slowly, lovingly, lamenting at the thought of covering the perfect forms they longed for. Then, they very nearly stripped each other bare again, but restrained themselves. This insane love between them would have to wait until another time.

When she reached the door, she couldn't quite force herself to open it. This place was more her home than anywhere else. He was more her husband than the man she had legally married. This life was more of a life than anything else could be.

His hands settled on her shoulders as he pressed himself against her back, gently kissing her neck. His quiet words emboldened her, and she was filled with the knowledge that no matter how long they were apart, he would always be with her and she with him. His hands slipped down her arms as his head came to rest on the curve between neck and shoulder. Something shone on his hand as it moved. A simple silver band. She watched in silence as he removed it and slid it onto her finger, on the hand untainted by her wedding band.

"I will always love you, Lillian Zakiah Evans," he whispered in her ear, his voice alive with emotion. She wanted to cry, to laugh, to never leave his side.

"I love you, Thomas Marvolo Riddle," was her only reply, soft as a gentle rainstorm, before she glided out of his grasp and was gone.

----

_Conditions met:_  
None.


	2. Little Boy Blue

**Another Life**

**Warnings:** Yaoi/Slash, Angst, DARK themes, Backstabbing, Incest, Yuri/Fem-slash, and other various nastiness. Hard R rating.

**Disclaimer:** Ain't mine.

**Chapter 1  
Little Boy Blue**

In his sixteen years of life, Harry Potter had been afraid many, many times. He had been brave and stupid and impulsive, but mostly afraid. Harry didn't shy away from this, knew that fear was all that saved a man from throwing his life away and needed to be understood and controlled, not ignored. He was idly confused as to why he wasn't scared now.

Harry sat on his bed, legs crossed and arms stuffed in his lap. His back slouched as was normal for teenagers his age, and his eyes stared dully ahead with little more than mild interest in them. The messy black hair was messy as always, shaggier now with wispy bangs to his nose and fringe over his ears and neck. His long sleeved shirt was torn in places and far too large, hanging over one boney shoulder. The blue jeans he wore had one leg ripped off at the knee, the other ripped higher on to create uneven cutoffs. It was more holey and torn than the shirt, tan skin showing through the white and blue threads. Tan, bruised, broken skin. Nothing that couldn't be explained by various, normal, teenage activities. He was ready to do so, also, even if no one believed it. Certainly not the dark man at the door.

The man standing before him didn't seem to have his attention on anything but him. No prior engagements, no inspection of the bare living quarters, just two ebony eyes boring into his body. Harry wondered if he should have been self-conscious of himself, but couldn't really summon the will to be. That would mean he would have to think.

"Potter."

Yes, that was his name. He stared back into those black eyes, waiting. He knew there would be more. There was always more.

"Come with me. We are returning to Hogwarts."

So Harry got up and followed him out of the empty bedroom. He walked in silence down the stairs, ignored the destroyed living room and frightened whimpers of the muggles in the corner, and left through the door. On into the street, take the portkey to Hogsmeade, walk to Hogwarts, ignore the man behind the curtain.

He didn't question anything at all. Didn't even speak, and that was what bothered Professor Severus Snape the most. Not the bruising, not the state of his clothing, not even his expression. The simple fact that Potter was so damned quiet put him on the highest level of danger alert he had.

Snape left him in the infirmary. Let Pomfrey deal with the silence of Harry Potter, because he just couldn't.

He went to Dumbledore and gave his report. Told that old man about finding Potter, noting his state, asking the muggles, being attacked by the largest and having to defend himself ("Just a stunning spell, Albus," Snape assured him.). Nothing was left out, not even his suspicions. Dumbledore listened to it all, noting it with a sagely nod as always. He thanked Snape and sent him on his way. There was no sign of anything but the regret of one's own stupidity on that old face, but Snape couldn't help feeling angry all the same.

He was a master at reading people, and something was wrong. No, something had been wrong for years. Snape thought deeply on this in his office that evening. It was easier to think about Albus Dumbledore than about Harry Potter and his beaten body. So much easier.

The old man was slowly but surely loosing Snape's trust. It took years to whittle it down. Every new assignment and every new disappointment just hammered down one more nail into the coffin of their partnership. Lately, the man had gotten almost fanatical in his war with the Dark Lord. One could argue that he was simply tired of innocent deaths, but Snape knew better. He had far more experience with powerful wizards.

Snape could imagine Dumbledore's perfect expression of grief when he finally deigned to see Harry Potter and his beaten, bloody body. Immediately, he shook that vision for his head with a physical shudder. He didn't want to think about that. No. It brought far too many memories. Better to wonder about Dumbledore alone. Easier.

Pomfrey interrupted him as the sky darkened to full black. She was out of a potion so he set to brewing it, telling her to expect it within the hour. This put him right back into thinking about just who the potion was undoubtedly for. Harry Potter and his beaten, bloody, broken body.

He really needed to get his mind off that.

* * *

He didn't like that the house held only muggles when he got there. Months of work, ripping at all the magical shielding, the 'protection', the magic cage around that house, all for nothing. The boy was not there.

He was not happy.

Leaving the three simpering muggles to his underlings, he made his way through the house, keeping his hands close so that he touched as little as possible. Let the muggle filth stay separate from him. Up the stairs, sneering distastefully at the creaks, through the hall to look into each room. He was silent as a ghost. The first room was filled to overflowing with muggle devices, a bed barely visible in one corner. The second was a fully furnished bedroom, disgustingly orderly and clean. The last door gave him pause. Locks of all sorts lined one side of it. Some were broken and he recognized the faint feeling of magic still in the metal bits. He pushed the door open and looked.

Bare. One bed, really just a mattress sitting on a very low frame. It was in horrible shape, dented and lumpy with holes poked through it. No sheets. No pillows. Nothing else was in the room. He was loathe to do so, but stepped into it and let his crimson eyes fall half mast as he opened himself up.

Immediately, he was bombarded with the strong mirages of past experiences littering the room. He could hear screams and cries, as if they were happening as he stood there. He felt himself beating upon that small, defenseless body, and in turn felt such abuse upon himself. He experienced the disgusting joy of seeing the hated little boy curled up beside the bed, unable to move without whimpering, and he felt the horror and self-hatred for being so weak. Long enough had passed and he pulled himself back behind the walls. The room was silent once more.

He wasn't sure what to make of this. Letting himself feel had that affect on him. He decided he would think on it after returning to the manor. There was much to go through.

As he came back down, the small man at the bottom of the stair looked up.

"Master, shall we kill the muggles?"

Lord Voldemort's face didn't change as he looked from the rat-like man to where the three were being held. A flash of the experience before made his gaze harden.

"Do with them what you like," he hissed. "Then kill them all."

His will was followed.

* * *

When Harry woke up, he was screaming soundlessly. Even opening his eyes didn't cut off the horrible hissing sound issuing from his throat, no matter that he knew it would do no good, no matter that he couldn't even remember what the dream had been. The hands that held him down, voices that shouted at him, meant nothing. He would scream until he couldn't scream any more. A hand clamped over his mouth and though he wanted to bite it, he didn't, because biting meant slapping and he didn't really feel like getting slapped at the moment. The hand lifted. He choked when something was forced into his mouth and swallowed reflexively. Soon, a calm spread over his body and he stopped flailing against the binds. He laid back, recovering from the whole thing.

"Well, Potter, now that that display is over…"

Oh, that drawling voice. Harry knew it well. He was almost glad to hear it instead of Pomfrey's whiny babbling.

"The mystery of your silence seems to have been solved."

Harry hadn't known it was a mystery in the first place.

"You'll be put on a strict regiment of potions and non-solid food until the tissue of your throat has been repaired."

Harry hadn't known it was broken, either.

"You'll be babbling inane stupidity within a few weeks."

Harry realized he didn't really know much of anything, if this comfort did nothing for him. Snape went quiet as he stared at the boy, his gaze hard. Those dull green eyes simply stared right back at him without fear. Without anything, really.

A blank slate. That's what the boy reminded him of. A damn blank slate. He decided he would do something about that.

"Pomfrey," he said in a voice only loud enough for her to hear, "Potter will come with me as soon as you release him."

The medi-witch almost fought him, but realized that there were no broken bones and no other injuries that would require her full time watch. The hard, unwavering look Snape gave her normally didn't affect much, but this time there was enough behind it to crumble her defenses. Later, she would blame it on a sleepless night.

"You may take him after I've given a final examination and written up instructions for his care," she said finally. Snape nodded and sat down beside the bed. Harry watched him for a bit but soon his eyes wandered away to stare into space. For some reason, that made Snape angry.

"Why didn't you tell anyone they were beating you?"

At first, there was no change. Then, slowly, Harry turned to look at him and a small, bitter smile spread over his lips. He looked so old yet so young, so worn by everything. Years of pain fell on his shoulders along with burdens that should never have been put on him in the first place. Snape never, ever wanted to see that expression again. A cocky grin, an enraged snarl, yes, but never this one.

The pale lips moved, but there wasn't enough sound to be heard. His throat was too damaged to do much more than whisper. Snape leaned in close and the boy spoke again, right into his ear so that he could hear.

"I did."

"Who knew?"

No answer, but the smile told him everything. Who else?

"He left you there to be beaten to death."

The smile never wavered. Snape sat back in his chair, stunned despite himself. He had never suspected the old man was capable of this. Capable of anything like letting this happen to Harry Potter, hero of Wizard kind, Boy-Who-Lived, child of circumstance. He felt like laughing hysterically until he cried.

Snape had never wanted to rip off the head of anyone but James Potter and Sirius Black before. Not even Remus Lupin or Mad-Eye Moody had gotten onto that particular list. Now, he felt almost ready to add someone. He sat still and quiet, trying to understand the thought processes of a man he'd known most of his life, but couldn't fathom what his reasoning was this time. Dumbledore always had a reason somewhere. He was missing something, but he had no idea what it was.

With a sigh, Snape ran a hand through his hair, mussing the black strands. He needed to know, so badly that it almost hurt. He had to get to the bottom of it. Finally, he could take no more of the suffocating silence and left the infirmary, muttering a parting work to Pomfrey as he swept through the door.

And through it all, Harry Potter's sad little smile never dropped.

* * *

The fire crackled and warmed the cool, stone room. Under his bare feet was a soft rug, just as comfortable as the blood red chair he reclined in. The table before him was set with a feast, but he'd touched none of it. They didn't question it, but the guards at the door were nervously waiting for whatever their master was thinking of to conclude. Generally, it ended with someone screaming in pain.

Lord Voldemort absently rubbed a thumb across his cheek, his eyes distant as he immersed himself in memory, letting it roll over him. He had to understand. Slowly, his eyes closed completely. When they opened again, he was standing back in the bare room. On the bed laid Harry Potter, who stared up at the ceiling in silence. There was a healing bruise on one eye and a scab on his lip from a split. The rest of him was covered with bruises where his thin clothing didn't hide. For some strange reason, the boy looked utterly peaceful even in such a state.

Sounds filtered in from outside the door. He looked and watched as the largest muggle of the house stumbled inside, door slamming against the wall. The peace was shattered and Potter jumped off the bed to stand. The words were lost as the muggle spoke, his voice angry and cruel. The boy only nodded or did nothing in response. He watched as the muggle strode forward and slapped him across the face hard enough to send the boy sprawled back onto the bed.

There was a distinctly base aggression in the muggle's next actions. He rained down punches and kicks upon the little body, threw him against walls, screaming taunts and laughed. He wasn't sure why, but the display made him almost sick. The boy was thrown to his feet and stared up, green eyes unseeing. Green eyes that bore into him. Green eyes that reminded him so much-

Lord Voldemort's eyes snapped open and stared into the fire. There were no green eyes to taunt him. No green eyes to tell him what he'd lost. How he'd been betrayed. No green eyes. He was alone, save the two of his minions at the doorway. Letting out a soft sigh, he rose and turned toward them, noting with distaste the fear in their gazes.

"Summon Malfoy," he ordered. "I wish to know if she has been successful."

They hurriedly went to do his bidding, leaving him alone. Lord Voldemort stood in silence, waiting. It wasn't long before the woman he had called entered his private rooms. He waved the guards out and the door closed behind them loudly. Narcissa Malfoy watched him, her gray eyes taking in his almost troubled look. Few dared look at him long enough to figure out his slight facial expressions.

"My Lord," she greeted, nodding to him finally. Lord Voldemort gazed back quietly before turning his eyes back to the fire.

"The raid on Potter's home did not go well," he murmured quietly. Narcissa said nothing. After a long quiet, he sat back down. The tenseness neither had noticed broke instantly. Narcissa took the seat across from him.

"What do you wish of me, my Lord?" she asked. He sighed softly.

"I want the house destroyed. All of it. There will be nothing left."

She took this in, memorized the order, then picked through it, trying to find what was different. Something inside her told her there was a problem. The tone was deadened, tired. Unlike the normal glee he took in destruction of their enemies.

"My I be bold, my Lord?"

His dark red eyes darted over her face. "You may."

"You seem troubled, my Lord," she murmured. "Something there surprised or upset you."

His silence made her wonder if she'd overstepped her boundaries, but no curse came flying from his lips.

"You presumed correctly," he said. His voice was guarded and his eyes held a far away glint to them.

"How can I ease your troubles, my Lord?"

He said nothing as he took her in. So eager to please him, yet Narcissa Malfoy had no real ambition to be anything better than she was. She was content, even as her husband sat in Azkaban and she was currently Head of the Malfoy family. He wondered why she followed him at all. Narcissa had no mark, no real allegiance to him at all, but still she was there, wanting to make herself useful. What could she possibly gain from the partnership, except the hope that he wouldn't kill her or her son? It couldn't just be that. Narcissa was an extremely intelligent woman and could find a way to protect them if she needed to. He was sure of that.

"You are so eager to please me," he said quietly, carefully. The shift in her gray eyes assured him that she had noted the change in him. "Why?"

She was silent, formulating her answer, thinking it through to perfection. Finally, she merely stated, "I have decided to be and so I shall."

It was not an awe-inspiring answer, but he understood it. Lord Voldemort sat back and stared at her. She was beautiful, he would give her that. Long locks of silvery blonde pulled into an elegant bun, her robes impeccable in style and cut to show her in all her regal glory. Fine featured face that shown with such intelligence and prowess in everything she did.

A moment later, he found himself relating to her everything that had happened in that evening. Taking the house, finding the boy gone, the room, the visions…His later vision in the room… Everything was laid at her feet to contemplate. When he was finished, she quietly thought about it all. Despite her dislike for the Potter boy, her mothering instincts told her that this was completely wrong. He was a boy, a Wizard boy, and there was no excuse for that kind of treatment. As a witch herself, she was disgusted that the abuse was imposed by a muggle. The boy should have been capable of defending himself against a lowly muggle, but had chosen not to. She did not understand.

"Does this change your plan of killing him, my Lord?"

Lord Voldemort rubbed his temples. "That is uncertain."

"He has much power, my Lord…"

"What are you hinting at?"

She was quiet a moment, but her eyes never left his.

"Turn him, my Lord."

"Do you believe he will come willingly?"

"No, my Lord." She smiled. It was not exactly wicked, but there was little warmth either. "He will have to be convinced."

After a few moments, he gave his own small smile.

"Severus."

_Conditions met:_  
None.


	3. The Dish Ran Away With the Spoon

**Another Life**

**Warnings:** Yaoi/Slash, Angst, DARK themes, Backstabbing, Incest, Yuri/Fem-slash, and other various nastiness. Hard R rating.  
**Disclaimer:** Ain't mine.

**Chapter 2  
The Dish Ran Away With the Spoon**

Morning spread a blanket of light over the boy sitting at the window. He wasn't supposed to be out of bed, but that hadn't stopped him. Staring out, watching the sky change colors with day, gave him a great sense of peacefulness, and that was something he needed. It made him not have to think. Not like sitting in the bed with nothing to do. Nothing to do but stare at the ceiling and think.

"Mr. Potter, get back into bed this instant!"

He moved quickly to do as she said, mechanically making his way to the bed and sitting upon it cross legged. The pajama bottoms rode up a little, revealing one of the small bruises littering his body. Madam Pomfrey bustled over, frowning at him as her hands sat on her hips.

"You're healing, Mr. Potter, and that means rest!"

Even if he could have said something, he didn't want to. He simply stared at her. She scowled a while longer before it softened.

"Child," she murmured, her entire manner going from raging matron to kindly mother, "You have so little understanding of how important you are…"

He told her exactly what he was for. Even without more than a whisper, she heard, understood, and was saddened.

"You are not a weapon, Harry…" She sat down, the bed drooping under her weight. Harry frowned at her, but she gave him no room to argue. "The world needs you, yes, but we still want you to be happy. Once the war is over, and it will be over soon, dear, I know it, you'll have a new life, another life, to do as you want."

He stared at her. Those green eyes were dulled and she knew he didn't believe her. It broke her heart to see him like that. She reached up and pet his cheek.

"Have faith," she murmured. "You're far overdue for good news."

He nodded to her, smiled quietly, and she believed him to have heard her.

* * *

Pick up the cup, sip, set it down. Wait. Pick up the cup, sip, set it down. Wait. It was like a dance, a very annoying dance, but necessary. Ebony eyes met pale blue across the desk. Both realized exactly what they were doing, but neither was ready to fail in the game of patience. The dance would have to continue and they to play their parts or they would get nothing for their efforts.

"More tea, Severus?"

"No thank you."

The pot was sat down again. He sipped what was left in silence as he waited. No doubt, the other man would soon grow curious enough to ask. Dumbledore was always so very curious.

As if answering the internal countdown, the jovial voice raised, "As much as I enjoy your sudden wish for companionship, Severus, I doubt that is all you have come for."

Snape set down his cup. Let the games begin.

"I came to speak to you about Potter."

The twinkling eyes dimmed. The old face wrinkled with regret and grief. The whole body sagged to make him look hundreds of years old. Snape almost smiled. Albus Dumbledore was one of the greatest actors he'd ever met.

"Why was he left there?"

Dumbledore closed his eyes and shook his head sadly. "Harry's blood bond with the Dursleys kept him safe from Voldemort."

"But not safe from them."

"If I have known, I would have put a stop to-"

"You did. He told you. Nothing was prevented."

The mask almost broke at the accusation. Almost. But Dumbledore had been playing this game for decades.

"Severus, it's not that simple..."

Snape stopped listening. He let Dumbledore prattle on, giving every twisted reason that sounded so good, so very real, so intelligent… Snape hadn't realized just how good at the game Dumbledore really was. He could sell anything, when the prey didn't know to watch out.

Eventually, Snape gave his leave. He knew the seeds of doubt of his loyalties had been sown, but there were other things to deal with. Such as one Harry Potter being moved to his rooms that afternoon.

* * *

It was a good half day before news of the Dursley's demise reached the Wizarding World, while the muggles were lamenting it nearly immediately. Arabella Figg came home to see the perfectly kept house burned to the ground. After that, it spread like wildfire through the Order…and then to those outside of it. The next issue of the Daily Prophet ran the story and caused a great wave of panic. No one knew where the Boy-Who-Lived was, except that he was supposedly 'safe'. Cornelious Fudge's assurances that the boy was safe were barely listened to. The man had lost far too much of his sway. Some even wondered if he had kidnapped the boy and killed his muggle family himself.

For those who knew and loved Harry, the article sent a cold shivers down their backs. Urgent owls poured into the ministry and Dumbledore's office, begging for reassurances that he was, in fact, in good hands. Notices were sent out that the boy was safely cared for, but the rumors spread through to make every man, woman, and child worry about their hero.

Harry Potter, himself, knew nothing of this. No one had spoken to him except Snape and Pomfrey, and neither of them said anything about it. He was blissfully unaware of the turmoil and it was probably for the best.

By three that afternoon, he was safely tucked away in the Potions Master's chambers, in a little guest room that had been cleaned up for him. Pomfrey fussed over him, then started giving Snape instructions that she'd already written down, then fussed over Harry again for a good while before she let them be. The rooms were noticeably more silent without the medi-witch's presence.

Snape gave him full access to the rooms, except for his personal potions lab. There were far too many dangerous potions brewing there at any given time. Oddly enough, Harry plopped himself down on one dark, leather couch with a book in his hands, plucked from the professor's vast collection.

No one would ever believe Snape to own a book of nursery rhymes, especially one so lovingly worn. Neither said anything about it.

The afternoon wore on into evening. Harry drank the doses of whatever potions he was taking (he didn't even try to keep up with them, there were so many,) without any resistance, despite the many nasty tastes. One made him sleepy, but he continued to read. Snape came in to find the boy sleeping quietly on the couch. He closed the book, marking his place with a bit of parchment, and gently carried the skinny boy to his bed. The book was left on the nightstand.

Snape was almost disturbed by the lack of annoyances that day. Once Potter had been moved to his rooms, the boy hadn't bothered him at all. As if Potter was afraid of him. The Potions Master was unsure of how he felt on that. Generally, he liked being an object of terror. However, this time it rather bothered him for some reason he was unsure of.

Forgoing thoughts of Potters and their fears, Snape spent most of the evening on his potions. It was satisfying and, more importantly, gave him something much more productive to focus on. When he had completed all he needed, the dark man retired to his bed for a well needed sleep.

Night had barely begun when Snape's eyes snapped open. Something woke up, but now awake, he could not figure out what it had been. He stood, pulling on a robe, and left the bedroom. The common room was still and quiet, no danger to be seen. He frowned. His senses never woke him without reason, and generally only when it was important.

A moment later found him opening Potter's door. Inside, a strange hissing sound caught his attention. On the bed, mouth wide in silent scream and body thrashing, was Harry Potter in his night terrors. Snape wanted to groan and spout off lines like "I'm not paid for this" and the like, but all he ended up doing was going to the bed and shaking the boy awake.

Harry's opened wide and unseeing as he fought Snape's hands, that horrible, hissing scream issuing from his mouth. Snape shouted at him, dodged the flailing arms before finally grabbing them and pinning them on the sheets.

"Potter, wake up!"

Nothing. The boy continued to fight. Finally, the Potions Master got fed up and grabbed the boy, dragging him up against his chest and holding on. Harry froze after a few seconds, unused to this treatment. Slowly, so slowly, the boy relaxed against him, lifting those thin arms around his neck. Snape couldn't muster up any disgust as moisture soaked into the shoulder of his robe and sleeping gown. No sound, but the small body shook as if he were sobbing his heart out.

* * *

"Are you heartless?"

"No. I just believe it when someone tells me something like that."

"Are you saying I don't have any trust?"

"Is there a reason you're so adamant to prove me disloyal?"

Smoldering blue eyes met brown and held. A spark shot through them and they broke off at the same time. Hermione and Ron sat in silence. Pursing his lips, Ron spoke up again, quieter this time.

"I'm just worried about him."

"I know," she replied softly. "Me too."

They sat quietly for a while before both looked up to speak again. They paused, each waiting for the other to talk first, then smiled embarrassedly when neither did. This brought a few chuckles.

"We should go down and socialize a little," said Hermione.

"They might think we're snogging or something," said Ron.

"How insane!" cried both as one and fell into a fit of laughter. They went down the stairs of Grimmauld Place, still snickering to one another. Ginny stood at the end of the stair and looked up at them grinning.

"Waiting for us?" Ron asked immediately.

"I knew you'd come down soon."

"How? I could have gone to sleep."

"It's a chick thing."

The three teens made their way into the kitchen for a late snack, but were met by Remus Lupin at the doorway.

"Sorry, didn't mean to barge into you like that, Professor," Ron said as he stepped back out of the other male's space.

"Don't worry about it," he replied softly. There was a harried look to his face and his eyes were tired. "I was looking for you three anyway."

They all perked up, wondering what it could be. Lupin sighed a little.

"Tomorrow, I was wondering if you'd like to accompany me to Hogwarts."

"Harry's there, isn't he?" asked Hermione. The wolf nodded a little.

"We would like to see him," Ginny said, smiling softly.

"Good." Lupin looked a little relieved actually. "We'll leave tomorrow morning, after breakfast."

* * *

The small glass ball rolled in his palm easily as he stared at it. No matter how long it had been, he could still see her face as she gave it to him, her soft words of love and adoration. The way her eyes sparkled.

Green eyes.

Green eyes that stared at him with such hatred. Lillian's child. The boy that could have been his. Should have been. If only that damned James Potter and Dumbledore hadn't stuck their necks in. He hated them. Oh, how he hated them… Lillian had been pure and they stained her completely.

He remembered storming the house. Killing James Potter, watching the incredulous expression on his face. Going to the nursery to see the brat, the child that should have been his but wasn't, and there she was, standing in front of the crib.

_"Not Harry. Not my baby,"_ she pleaded.

_"Not you,"_ he had responded as he raised the wand. He remembered the wet feeling on his face. Then, he remembered the calm that had come to her as she reached back behind her and touched her child for the last time.

_"I love you, Thomas."_ Her last words. Her last, sweet, beautiful, painful words. Then she fell dead from a spell he had never remembered casting, but knew he had. The baby was awake and cried. He wanted so very badly to hate it, to hate this crime against him by James Potter. He wanted to. And even as he cast the spell on it, the one that tore him from his own body, he hadn't been able to.

"My Lord?"

Lord Voldemort whipped around and glared at the wizard who dared interrupt him. The man visibly crumpled under his stare.

"What is it?" he hissed.

"Something has been found, my Lord. A letter, addressed to Tom Riddle," murmured the man quietly as he stared at the ground. "None of us have been able to touch it without being burned."

The Dark Lord was intrigued by this and followed his servant to investigate. In the dining room, sitting upon the table, was an old envelope. The dainty handwriting was unmistakable. Lord Voldemort grabbed it, then hissed when it burned his hand. He let go and stared at the offending object.

"Why," he whispered to himself, far too low for anyone else to hear, "Why is it that you taunt me so, Lillian?"

He stared on at it, then with a flash knew what to do. Immediately, he ordered the room cleared. Reaching into his pocket, he extracted a chain. On it hung a small silver ring. He slid it off the chain and onto his finger, amazed that it still felt so right to wear it. With this done, he reached for the envelope again.

No pain. A warmth, but comforting, spread through his fingers and up his arm to spread over his entire body. Carefully, he opened it and pulled out the single piece of parchment. He could only stare at her familiar writing at first, then he read.

_My dearest Thomas._

_If you're getting this letter, then I have died. Don't be sad, my love. I lived a full life. My only regret is that I haven't survived to see my baby grow up. I hope James has raised him well, but if not him, then that he has lived well with whoever has taken him._

_I know you are angry with me, and perhaps have shut me completely from your life, but please remember that I loved you with all of my heart._

_The reason I am writing this is to tell you a very important thing. My son, my Harry, is not the child of James Potter._

He nearly dropped the parchment. Instead, his fingers tightened over it as he stared at the written words.

_Harry is your son._

_Conditions Met:_  
1. Voldemort must be Harry's father


	4. Winken, Blinken, and Nod

**Another Life**

**Warnings:** Yaoi/Slash, Angst, DARK themes, Backstabbing, Incest, Yuri/Fem-slash, and other various nastiness. Hard R rating.  
**Disclaimer:** Ain't mine.

**Chapter 3  
Winken, Blinken, and Nod**

Harry woke to the sounds of conversation just past the door. He rolled out of bed, running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair, and stared at the door. It was not his door. He looked around and found he was not in his room. Slowly, the memories of the day before filtered into his mind. This was Snape's place. Well. That was all right.

On the edge of the bed was a silver robe. He glanced down at himself, wondering it pajamas was good enough for whatever company was out there. A dark patch of bruised skin at one wrist made him pull on the robe over them. The long sleeves covered most of each hand.

Harry stood there for a while before remembering that he didn't have to wait. Snape would not hurt him for leaving the bedroom without permission. At least, he rather hoped not. With a slow burning courage, Harry went to the door and opened it, glancing through. The common room was filled with people. Hermione in the kitchenette, making tea. Ron and Remus on the couch, talking. Ginny on the couch's armrest, smiling pleasantly. Snape in the armchair, muttering obscenities. How nice.

Snape's voice paused as he turned to look at the guest room door. He waved Harry forward, and the boy came out to stand next to him. The others immediately greeted him, warmly and like they normally did, except no one got up to hug him. He was a little confused at the mix of disappointment and relief he felt. Hermione brought out the tea and set it on the table between the seats.

"It's good to see you, Harry," she said softly. "We were very worried when we heard about the Dursleys."

Harry stared at her. She knew? She knew what they had done? Immediately, he jerked his gaze to Snape. The Potions Master sighed a little.

"Death Eaters arrived at your house after I took you," said Snape. Harry's face went blank. "The muggles are dead and the house destroyed."

Slowly, he nodded his understanding and pulled the robe tighter. Hermione reached over and patted his arm. He barely kept from wincing as she inadvertently found one of the worse off bruises. Salves and potions could only heal his battered body so fast.

"Since you're sixteen," Remus began suddenly, "you've been declared legally responsible for yourself, at least in muggle matters. The only one with any real sway over you until next year is Dumbledore, since you're a student here."

Harry only looked at him and nodded after a while. He understood.

"You're welcome to stay with us," said Ron. Ginny nodded in agreement.

"We'd love to have you."

Harry looked at both of them, his face expressionless as he thought. Then, he slowly shook his head as an apologetic, bitter smile flit over his lips temporarily. That 'said', the silent boy went back into his bedroom, closing the door gently behind him. The four Gryffindors stared after him with various expressions.

"What's wrong with him?" Ron asked with a frown. Snape rubbed his temples.

"His vocal cords and voice box were severely damaged," he replied. "The healing potions are doing all they can, but he may never again speak anything above a whisper."

"That's not what he meant," Hermione said very quietly, but Snape already knew that. As the four sets of eyes came to rest on him, he scowled at the lot of them.

"Whether I like Mr. Potter or not, I will not divulge information he has not freely given or shown the want to give." His voice was dark, stern, and cut off their complaints on the subject. They sat in silence, sipping cups of tea or just thinking.

A little voice piped up from on top of the couch's armrest.

"Will he be okay?"

Snape regarded the red haired girl with a dull sort of tiredness.

"I don't know," he said truthfully.

The Gryffindors didn't stay long after.

* * *

It was dark. It was quiet. It was cold.

He floated, though whether or not it was air or something more solid around him, he hadn't the faintest. He didn't know how long he'd been there, or even if there had been a Somewhere Else before. His memories were a jumbled mess of faces and voices and words and none of it made any sense. Nothing was important anyway and he wondered if he really existed when he cared to wonder about anything at all.

Sometimes, he would hear something around him, but never understood the garbled words. Sometimes, he would feel the touch of something, but never saw it. Sometimes, he would remember what it was like before the floating, but never kept hold of the memory. It almost made him wonder about where he was. Almost. Not quite.

Then he noticed something was strange. Light, pouring from one side. He watched it, as there was nothing else to do, noticing that the light was growing. Soon, it encompassed everything. His body warmed with it. It felt like warm, soothing hands petting over his skin, comforting his very soul. A soft sound filled his ears, a woman's voice, urging him to her. He tried to answer her, but no sound came from his lips. Instead, he forced himself to move.

The journey was agonizingly slow. Every movement he forced sent spasms of pain through his entire body, but he kept going. She called to him, always so soft and reassuring. Then, the light shifted and condensed into one form. He could barely make out the outline and didn't fight when the figure reached out to him and touched his face. At that, he we plunged back into darkness.

The sound of dripping woke him. He groaned and held his head, fighting the ache that was welling up in his temples. His body was sore and felt so very heavy. Opening his eyes, he looked around and was stunned. The room was eerily familiar, but his thoughts were too messed up for him to remember why terror was making its way into him.

The sound of harsh breath alerted him to the other's presence. Laying with her back against one wall, blonde hair loose and stuck to her forehead with sweat, was Narcissa Malfoy. She looked half dead, gray eyes fogged with exhaustion and face so very pale. Still, she managed a weak little smirk towards him.

"Hello," she whispered faintly, "Cousin Sirius."

* * *

Harry liked it when Snape left the door to the lab open while he worked. It wasn't so much that he liked potion making or the lab itself; it was more that he liked not being completely alone. He curled up in a chair near the door, his book of rhymes held lovingly in his lap, and read while his professor mixed and managed four cauldrons, each containing a different potion. It was a peaceful, nigh pleasant way to spend the day.

They broke for lunch and made their way side by side to the Great Hall. Harry limped a bit, but neither said a thing about it, and he was glad for it. Dumbledore was in the hall to greet them, as well as McGonagall and Pomfrey. Hagrid came in half way through the meal and babbled happily to Harry, who only smiled and nodded when it was appropriate. Hagrid didn't distract him enough not to notice the tense state of Snape beside him. He glanced up and watched the Potions Master eat, noting that his inky eyes stayed settled on the Headmaster the whole time.

As lunch concluded and the others went off, Dumbledore stopped Snape and Harry.

"Hello, Harry," he said gently with that grandfather smile. "How are you today?"

The boy shrugged his shoulders and smiled weakly. That suited the Headmaster just fine.

"I heard you were staying with Professor Snape." A nod. "It pleases me that you two are getting along so well."

Harry felt Snape's hand come to rest on his shoulder.

"I was going to inform you," continued the Headmaster without pause, "that a room will be made up for you soon. I daresay that the dungeons aren't the best place for a recovering boy…"

It was odd, the way his chest clinched at the words. He found himself talking, but couldn't hear the words and it hurt to try to make them louder. Lifting a hand to rub his throat, he looked up at Snape. The Potions Master was amazed at the pleading look. There had been so little emotion on Harry's face since his extraction from the Dursleys.

"I believe Mr. Potter would rather continue his healing where he is," Snape said quietly. Harry didn't miss the sharp jerk of blue eyes to meet black. There was silence, and then the moment was over and Dumbledore smiled.

"Of course," he said pleasantly. "You're free to stay wherever makes you happiest."

Harry nodded. He didn't even notice that he had stepped closer to Snape during the tense, silent seconds. Dumbledore left them and Snape led Harry back to the dungeons. The boy let out a shaky breath and the man glanced over him, noting the tired eyes and pale skin. When they got back into his rooms, he gave Harry his potions and sent the boy to bed. Harry was asleep before his head hit the pillow. His door was left slightly open as Snape worked in the main room, getting ready for the school year.

When the nightmares came that night, Snape was ready. He held Harry and rocked him, soothing the demons that plagued the boy's sleep. He stayed until he was sure Harry would be all right before moving out to spend the rest of the night on the couch, ready to wake if there was the slightest sound of distress from the guest room.

* * *

The letter stayed firmly held in his hands. He sat in front of the fire, staring at it, wondering if he should laugh at this cruel joke. He wanted to laugh. If he laughed, then it really was a joke. Somehow, the sound was caught in his throat.

His son? Harry Potter was his son? Harry Potter was Lord Voldemort's son?

That cocky, messy haired boy with glasses and huge green eyes was definitely Lily Potter's. His face was hers, his eyes… But he was so much James Potter's as well. The attitude, the need to play hero, the lack of fear in the face of real danger… How could it be that this child was of his blood? The entire notion seemed wrong and false and completely improbable…Intelligence swimming through emerald. The set of that small jaw. Thin body shaking with fear repressed from the thin face. The need to be victorious.

Oh Merlin. He really could be his.

A long, thin hand covered his eyes as he shut them tight. He got up, rushing into the center of the room as he wrenched his gaze onto a full length mirror, set into the wall. Before him stood a man of few years. Dark hair spelled to perfect obedience and parted to one side in such a professional style. Slanted brown eyes with hints of crimson, just waiting to flash with anger. Pale skin, angular face. Thin, compact frame barely hinted at by the well cut robes. He stepped towards it, lifting a hand and touching the reflection, who only smirked back at him. Cocky, arrogant man, who had long faded into the visage of his present state. He stared at his hand, stared at the long, thin, skeletal fingers. They weren't so different from the hand in the mirror, were they? Not quite so thin. Not quite so inhuman. His inspection continued. Thin, boney face, sharp cheek bones, gaunt, hairless face. This was different. This face had none of the boyish lilt that the one in the mirror did. His eyes were so very narrow now, fully red. Nose small and barely noticible. Bald head, not a hair to be seen. Far different than when she knew him.

Anger struck through him. How dare she make him feel like this? She was dead! Dead! Had been for sixteen years! How dare she do this to him now! He barely noticed the shattering sound as the mirror broke with his anger, broken glass littering the ground. His breath was hard and fast, eyes blazing. How _dare_ she…

He suddenly remembered the first time he saw her.

_She stepped into the classroom, muttering angrily at a tall boy with messy black hair. The boy retorted with smooth, seductive words, but she would have none of it. She caught his eye immediately. The long, wavy, red hair flew with her anger as she whipped around, framing her face as it fell like flickering flames. Her green eyes flashed with fury and such strength, power rolling off her in waves. Her sharp voice put the boy in his place and he visibly shrank back from her. She stalked to an empty seat already surrounded by others and plopped down, glaring at him from across the room._

_He left his seat behind the desk and stood in front of them. Twenty faces stared back at him. Seventh years from all houses, his first class on his first day. He wondered if he could really do that. And then he looked at her, sitting in the front row. Her still raging emerald eyes were weighing him as he stood._

_"My name is Professor Riddle. Welcome to Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts. I'm sure we will have a good year."_

_Conditions Met:_

1. Voldemort must be Harry's father  
3. Sirius comes back


	5. Humpty Dumpty

**Another Life**

**Warnings:** Yaoi/Slash, Angst, DARK themes, Backstabbing, Incest, Yuri/Fem-slash, and other various nastiness. Hard R rating.  
**Disclaimer:** Ain't mine.

**Chapter 4  
Humpty Dumpty**

Everything happened as a blur. He was confused and numb and nothing made sense. His memories were in a jumble of sounds and images. Narcissa took him away from the Ministry and to her home. He only recognized it when they got inside and she sat in him front of the fire. He hadn't realized he was shivering until the warmth made his limbs tingle. Narcissa ordered the house elves to ready a room and feast. They scurried to do her bidding.

When everything finally settled down, Narcissa placed a warm mug in his hands and sat across from him. He stared at her dumbly as he sipped the sweet, dark liquid. Hot chocolate, he realized belatedly.

"You're probably very confused," she said suddenly. He looked over her face and nodded a bit.

"Numb," he croaked out. Was that raspy sound really his voice?

"That's to be expected. You've been caught between life and death for months now."

He only blinked owlishly. There wasn't enough coherency in his mind to do much else.

"I extracted you from the veil for a very simple reason," she began. He could see that she was still very much tired from the ordeal. "My Lord wished it."

That did it. As if a bucket of ice cold water had been splashed over him, he was suddenly and horribly awake. He jutted out of the seat and stumbled a step as he shouted at her.

"I won't let that slimy bastard use me against Harry-!"

"Oh, shut up, Cousin," Narcissa interrupted, "It's not that bad."

"Like hell it isn't!"

"He doesn't want to kill the boy!"

He blinked, stared, then sat back down. "What?"

"Other factors have come into play," Narcissa hissed at him with irritation. "Originally, yes, we were going to use you as bait to bring the boy in, but now Potter is not to be harmed in any way."

"But why?"

"I don't know. I haven't been made privy to that secret, Sirius."

He sank back into the chair, blue eyes down cast. Narcissa rubbed her temples.

"Something has happened to the Lord," she began quietly. "He's changing. Calming. It's Potter's doing, I'm sure of it. I just don't know how or why."

"Am I a prisoner?"

"For now." She lifted her gaze to meet his. "You have free reign of the manor, as long as my son is left unharmed. Outside of that, you are not to leave this property."

He frowned at her, face twisting with mistrust. "Why am I being treated this way?"

"Simple. My Lord has deemed you still useful in a fully unmolested state."

"I won't do anything to endanger Harry."

"I know that."

There was a pregnant pause between them.

"Actually, I beginning to think he won't either."

* * *

Snape was startled by a sudden, weak little sound that crept around his quarters. He poked his head out of the lab and his eyes dropped onto the boy sitting near. Harry's head swayed from side to side as his hand tapped on his knee. The book of nursery rhymes was resting in his lap as it had for the past few days. And barely audible was the boy's little hum as he ran his finger under the words on the page. It wasn't talking, but it was a good sign that Harry would regain his voice fully.

He faintly recognized the tune and found himself mouthing the silly words. His mother had sung the same song as a lullaby.

"…pocket full of rye; four and twenty blackbirds…"

The humming stopped and Harry looked up with such a particular look on his face. Snape flushed a little as he realized he'd begun quietly singing along. The little smile that spread over Harry's face was nearly worth it. Just to spite him, Snape continued singing the little ditty softly as he escaped back into the lab.

That night, Harry had his nightmares, but it was easier for Snape to soothe him into a deeper sleep. He wondered idly, as he sat down at the kitchenette's bar with a cup of warm tea, if this was what it felt like to be a father.

The days came and went with a comfortable normality. Harry read (he moved onto other books in Snape's collection, but kept coming back to his nursery rhymes before bed) as Snape brewed. The rooms were always scented by strange potions, but Harry didn't mind. It was almost pleasant after the scent of…

The book fell from his hands as he stared ahead. Unwilling to stay away, memories filled his mind. The scent of cleaning solution as he rubbed his hands raw cleaning. Petunia's triumphant tone as she found a speck of dust and made him do it all over again. Retching in the corner of his room and desperately cleaning it, can't let Petunia see it, can't let Dudley see it, _can't let them tell Ver-_

He was only aware of the pathetic whimpers leaving him until he heard them muffled against the black cloth of Snape's robes. The Potions Master held him firmly with one arm around his back, the other petting through his shaggy hair. Harry clutched to him, muttering almost soundlessly into that heavy cloth, his eyes wide as he begged for Vernon to forgive him, he was sorry, didn't mean to mess up, didn't mean to be a failure, didn't mean to be useless, didn't mean-

"He doesn't deserve your apologies," Snape murmured gently in his ear. Harry only held him tighter. "That man was an abomination, Harry. A monster. Not you. Never you…"

He wanted to believe it. He wanted so badly to think he was worth something. He wanted the pain to go away and to be happy and to be loved and he knew he didn't deserve it, but he wanted to never be alone again-

"You won't be alone," promised Snape so vehemently, "Never again, Harry. Never."

And oh Merlin, he hated himself for crying again. He took every comfort Snape was willing to give him, cried into his robes and told him everything, everything, because he couldn't keep it in anymore, because it hurt so bad and he needed someone to know something, anything, everything, because then it might be okay…

And when his voice trailed off, became barely the twitch of lips and then died completely, Snape gathered him into his arms, _so much stronger than he could ever be_, and carried him into his room. He tucked him into bed and gave him a sweet tasting potion that made him so very relaxed and calm. Snape sat down on the bed beside him, pitch black eyes settling on Harry's face. He couldn't pinpoint when, but sometime during the days of Harry's stay, the boy had become more than just a nuisance, more than just another student. Snape knew he was now more than bound to keep the boy safe. He would do it willingly.

Harry's nightmares came fast and violent, but Snape knew what to do.

* * *

His head felt clearer than in years. He wasn't sure why or what had changed, but the haze that he had mistaken for hate was lifting from him. His thoughts were less jumbled, less obsessive over one single thing: Revenge on Harry Potter.

Lord Voldemort stared at the mirror. He had done so many times over the years, but was now entranced by his own reflection. Years ago, that mirror had shown a young man, glorious in his perfection. A family heirloom from his mother. Slowly, the image had changed as he did, becoming the snake like visage that he now wore on the outside. Now, the image was slowly reverting back.

It was an odd mirror, a special one. Even before his outside appearance became the snake, this mirror showed it. And now, as he was fully thus, it was changing back into the young, fully human man he had once been. He was not fully sure why.

"My Lord?"

He glanced at the door to see a tall, blonde woman staring back at him. Beckoning her forward, he shot the guard a dark look and was pleased when the man scampered out and shut the door behind him. Narcissa sat down in the chair across from him.

"Were you successful?" Lord Voldemort asked.

"Yes, my Lord."

"Results?"

"He is fully functional and will be ready within days for anything you have planned."

He nodded before narrowing his eyes. "You look ill, Narcissa."

"Exhaustion, my Lord," she replied quietly and indeed she did look tired. Her eyes were darkly rimmed and her face pale. A slight tremor was just barely noticeable. "I will be recovered with a few days rest."

"Good. Do rest."

She watched him as he turned his attention away from her, falling into thought. He did this often now, one of the many small changes that were overcoming her lord. He was becoming calmer, softer… more sane. Narcissa would never entertain thoughts of her lord's insanity, but it was as plain to her sometimes as the sunlight in the day. Very little did it show up now. Instead, he looked more worn and tired. Much more approachable.

"Narcissa," he called quietly.

"Yes, my Lord?"

Lord Voldemort looked at her, pinning her down with that crimson gaze. Was the brown speckled through them her imagination?

"What is a man that can kill the woman he loves?"

She stared at him, startled. "I'm not sure I understand the question, my Lord."

"Think on it and return to me only when you have an answer," he said, waving a dismissive hand. "That will be the extent of your rest."

She got up and bowed her head. "Thank you, my Lord."

Then she left. Lord Voldemort stated into the fire silently for the rest of the night.

* * *

When Remus Lupin arrived at Snape's door, he was surprised to be viciously shushed before the other man stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind him.

"Severus, what-"

"Be quiet, you idiot!" Snape hissed, glancing back at the door. The normal darkness under his eyes had multiplied with days of sleepless nights. He was paler than ever and so very tired. Remus couldn't help feel sorry for him, even as he found himself dragged out of the dungeons.

"That boy has barely slept a solid hour in four days," the dark man snapped, his thin fingers gripping Remus' arm painfully tight. "You had to arrive in the dark hours, didn't you, Lupin?"

"Sorry," wince, glance at that tight hand, "Anything I can do?"

"Oh, many things, but I doubt you'd like joining Black anytime soon… I'm this close to asking Poppy to prescribe nightly doses of a sleeping draught, damn the addiction!"

Remus couldn't help his wince at his deceased friend's name. Snape finally let go of him when they reached the front entrance. He sagged up against one wall, arms folded across his chest. It should have made him look intimidating as it usually did, but this time, he looked more haggard than anything else.

"Severus, are you all right?" Remus asked quietly. He regretted it when Snape glared at him, but the other man was too tired to really do much more than that.

"I'm fine. I've just lost sleep."

"A lot of sleep."

Another glare. "Get on with what you want, Lupin."

"I came to see how Harry was doing," Remus said quietly, itching at his arm. "We've worried about him."

"When has anyone not worried about that damned boy?" Snape muttered darkly. He ran a hand through his long hair, pushing it back from his face with a grimace.

"The last time I visited, he looked like he was recovering well…"

"He was teetering on the brink then, Lupin," Snape replied. "Four days ago, he broke down."

"Is he all right?" asked Remus quickly, hazel eyes filling with worry.

"When he's awake…"

"And when he's asleep?"

"When he's asleep, his nightmares are violent enough to injure himself."

Both men went quiet.

* * *

_"Professor Riddle, I want to learn more." Her eyes were determined and fiery as ever, but directed at him, they were the most beautiful things he'd ever seen. He knew it was wrong, this strange infatuation he had with Lily Evans, a student, a girl far his junior…He knew it was wrong, but even as he hid these feelings, he could not stop feeling them._

_"I was not aware that Potion Mistresses needed to be experts ad defense," he replied quietly, cautiously._

_"I can't brew potions if I'm dead, Professor." She folded her arms over her chest. She was always so strong… "The spells I've learned in class aren't enough. I want to know I'm safe."_

_It was a very sad thing when children didn't know they were safe, but the sad truth of it all was that they weren't. The phantom Dark Lord was terrorizing the country and even he, Tom Riddle, didn't feel secure. Far too many times had he awaken somewhere he did not remember going to…and the dreams…He shook that off._

_"I will arrange it with the Headmaster," he promised her. At once, her face brightened. Her eyes glittered as she smiled at him and he knew that he was falling in love with that vivacious little girl, no matter how hard he fought it. He would never tell her, never hold her, never, never, never, but that was all right. If teaching her protection was all he could offer, he would do it and do it to the best of his abilities._

_"Thank you," she said and he wondered if the air really did suddenly taste of honey or if it were simply him. She went to the door, pausing to glance back over her shoulder. It looked like she was about to say something, but she didn't. Finally, she simply smiled and went on her way. He sat down at the desk and stared after her._

_Conditions Met:_  
1. Voldemort must be Harry's father  
3. Sirius comes back


	6. All Around the Mulberry Bush

**Another Life**

**Warnings:** Yaoi/Slash, Angst, DARK themes, Backstabbing, Incest, Yuri/Fem-slash, and other various nastiness. Hard R rating.  
**Disclaimer:** Ain't mine.

**Chapter 5  
All Around the Mulberry Bush**

Sirius Black could think of a lot of things that could appear in his bedroom. Most of these things were of the badly rated persuasion, but never had he ever thought that waking up he would find the Dark Lord sitting next to his bed. He always thought if he met the man, he'd kill him on the spot, but he was too shocked to do much but sit up and stare.

"Good morning, Mr. Black," said Lord Voldemort. Sirius numbly nodded back. Those haunting red eyes narrowed a little. "I hope you are recovering well."

His heart beat rang loud in his ears. He didn't know what to say or what to do. He stared at the demon who sat so very calmly beside him.

"Narcissa tells me that you are…reluctant to help me in matters I may ask you assistance on."

"Yes." He spoke before he realized it. "I won't help you hurt Harry."

"I see." Lord Voldemort's face was unreadable. "Then it is fortunate that I want the boy alive, unharmed, and safe, isn't it?"

Sirius said nothing. Lord Voldemort clasped his hands in his lap.

"I do not require you to join me nor to be loyal to me," he began quietly.

"Good," replied Sirius bluntly. "I'd never join up."

"Be that as it may…" Was that amusement Sirius heard in the Dark Lord's voice? "Your cooperation in keeping Harry Potter well is all I require of you."

"I won't let you hurt him," Sirius growled with more power behind it. Lord Voldemort was quickly losing the power of fear over him. He was a little surprised when the Dark Lord not only did not rise to meet him, but actually lowered his gaze.

"I realize that," Voldemort murmured so quietly that Sirius barely heard it. After a few moments, he lifted his gaze and stared Sirius in the eye. "I don't intend to hurt him."

"You expect me to believe you?"

"No. But I do expect you to see to the boy when he is brought here." Lord Voldemort stood and stared down at him expressionlessly. "Good day, Mr. Black."

He got to the door by the time Sirius was able to untangle himself from the bed sheets. The Dark Lord paused there and glanced back, watching Sirius rise.

"If you hurt one hair on his head-" He already knew what the animagus was going to say.

"You can kill me then, Mr. Black," replied Voldemort softly. Then the man disappeared into the hall. Sirius sat back against the bed, pushing straggly black hair out his face, and wondered just when the world had turned on its axis.

* * *

Harry stared at the still form of his potions professor. Almost too still, as if the life was being drawn from him, but then Harry would see the slight shift of his chest as he breathed, the movement of his hair as it was tossed by the slight wind. Still, it felt as if that motion would stop if he didn't watch and make sure the man was alive. He knew he was obsessing. He knew something was wrong with him. And he also knew that he couldn't stop it, no matter what. He couldn't, not by himself.

Snape looked so very tired. The abnormal color under his eyes struck guilt through to his core. He wished so very much that he could simply cast silencing charms around his room, so that the older man would never know he was having a nightmare, so that he would sleep instead of looking after him. He hated that this man was giving so much up for him.

So there he stood, watching Snape sleep in his big, dark brown chair. Watching to make sure he didn't die. In his dreams, Snape had started to die along with the rest of the people he cared about. Sometimes, Harry didn't even know if he was in a dream or if it was real. He hated that most of all because it was the scariest part.

He knew he shouldn't have to do this. That didn't make the need stop.

As he tried to convince himself that Snape wasn't going to die the moment he took his eyes off him, a distraction knocked at the door. Harry opened the door, peering up into the face of none other than Remus Lupin.

"Hello, Harry."

The boy reached up and put a finger to his lips before letting the man in. Remus glanced around and spotted Snape, instantly understanding. He ushered Harry back into the guest bedroom and spelled the room silent.

"Well, it's good to see him getting some sleep…"

Harry nodded, even as he stared at the closed door. He felt his knee start to bounce. Remus watched him, frowning a little as he caught the apprehensiveness in his posture and scent.

"Is something wrong, Harry?"

The knee paused and the boy looked up at him. Those eyes had always pinned him and they were only getting more powerful. There was something that was completely unnerving about seeing Lily's eyes empty and near lifeless…except for the all encompassing fear.

"Oh, Harry…"

He couldn't help himself. Remus wrapped Harry up in his arms, only holding tighter when he felt a weak grip on each of his arms and the soft pressure of the boy's head upon his shoulder. It wasn't much, but it did help some. Harry closed his eyes and let the older man's warmth calm him.

"Open the door?" Harry whispered as loud as he could. Remus nodded a little and pulled away. He watched as the tense fear filled the boy again and felt immensely saddened. As he opened the door, breaking the silencing charm, he watched Harry's gaze lock onto Snape's form, and then watched him slowly relax. It was with a jolt that he realized what was going on. This worried him far more than the boy's quietness.

Soon enough, he said his quiet goodbye and left the two to their own. Harry moved back into the main room and went back to his silent vigil.

Remus, however, made his way to the Headmaster's office. He got the password on the second time ("Peanut Butter Cups") and went up. When he got there, Dumbledore was in the middle of a conversation with one of the portraits. The old man paused and glanced over at the door before smiling.

"Hello, Remus," he said cheerfully.

"Albus," Remus greeted with a nod of his head before dropping into a seat before the desk. Dumbledore seated himself and took a lemon drop from the tray in one corner.

"Something is distressing you, my boy," he said sagely.

"It's Harry," the wolf replied quietly. "I've just come from visiting him…"

"We are all worried for the dear boy…" The sad tone to the headmaster's voice tore at Remus' heart.

"I think he needs to get out of the dungeons. Growing boys need sunlight and fun and…" He shoved a hand through his salt and pepper hair. "Merlin, Albus, he was staring at Severus as if the man would die right in front of him! He's obsessing over it!"

Dumbledore sighed softly and sat back, his eyes mournful. "Harry has, indeed, been traumatized these past years… I had hoped Severus would be able to help heal him, to get through to him… They are so very much alike…"

"Any other day," Remus began quietly, "and I would never have thought that possible. They hated each other so deeply, Albus… I don't know what changed, but it happened so fast that it seems they're two completely different people now."

"Such is the nature of compassion," Dumbledore said with a sad smile. "Severus saw the need to protect and Harry needed someone to hold onto. That they came to see each other in those positions was fortunate and may mean healing on both sides…"

"But Harry-"

"It will take time, Remus." His blue eyes twinkled. "Trust their strength."

Remus nodded a little, but after what he had seen, he wondered if he really could.

* * *

"Why is he still here, Mother?" Draco Malfoy muttered obstinately as he glared down his nose at the intruder into his house. Arms folded of his chest and back straight, he looked every inch the aristocrat. Sirius wanted to strangle him.

"Our Lord's wishes are not to be questioned," Narcissa replied in her polite, quiet tone, never looking from her book. She had been sitting alone with Sirius in the parlor when her son came in to investigate the new house guest. He was not at all pleased.

"Mother, even the elves clean and clothe themselves better," he sneered. Narcissa glanced up and raised a brow.

"Complaining is not becoming of you, my son," she said. Her voice was as light and pleasant as ever, but her expression made it clear that this was a warning. Draco frowned and dropped to sit next to her on the white couch. "In any case, Mr. Black will be staying with us for a good while, so I expect you to treat him with the level of respect expected of a good host. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Mother," Draco conceded. His stormy gray eyes spoke of rebeliousness, but Sirius had a feeling that he wouldn't be bothered. Over the past few days, when he caught the two together, he noted the strong bond between mother and son. They would do anything for one another.

As Draco continued to seethe, Narcissa closed her book and set it down before pinning their guest with her gray eyed stare. Sirius stared resolutely back.

"We must do something about those robes," she said finally, making her son smirk with triumph. He glanced down at himself, noting the ragtag robes he had been wearing since escaping the veil. Narcissa tapped her chin. "We shall have to summon the tailor then. Draco, if you would?"

"Yes, Mother," replied the boy. He got up to do so, leaving them be. Narcissa watched him go and sighed a little.

"He is a good boy," she murmured softly. Sirius propped his head on his fist.

"It's very clear that he'd do anything you asked of him," he countered cautiously. Narcissa smiled a little.

"Yes, it is."

"And in response, you've handed him over to a maniacal wizard bent on world domination."

Her eyes widened as she stared at him.

"What?"

The complete and utter shock on her face could have been explained away by his gall, but he had the feeling that wasn't the case. She continued to stare at him for a while before a sudden look of comprehension came over her.

"You think we've been marked?"

It was Sirius's time to stare. "Haven't you?"

"Goodness, no!" Narcissa frowned at him, shifting to be more comfortable. "Draco and I have not and will not be marked. We have a deal with the Dark Lord. My husband's marking was his own dealing, not ours. Besides which, Draco is sixteen!"

Sirius blinked. "When why on earth are you serving him?"

"I have my reasons," replied Narcissa sternly. Her closed off expression was enough of a hint that the conversation was closed. Sirius sighed and sat back. Before long, Draco returned.

"She'll be here this evening, after a few other jobs. I told her not to hurry."

"Thank you, Draco."

The boy stood by his mother and looked over at Sirius, frowning again. The animagas had the impression that it was not simply that _he_ was there, but that anyone at all had intruded. The way he stood next to the couch, as if ready to jump in front of it at any moment, was more proof of the protectiveness he felt. Draco didn't just hate him being there, he hated anyone that might disrupt his home any more than it already had. Sirius had to wonder what the boy was feeling, so soon after his father's incarceration.

"You look tired," Narcissa said suddenly. "Perhaps you would prefer to retire to your rooms, Cousin?"

Well, that was a veiled hint if he had ever heard one. "Yes, I think I will. Thank you for the pleasant evening, Narcissa."

"The pleasure is mine," she replied with a little smile.

As Sirius left them, he could hear Draco's unpleased muttering about dogs in the house and wondered if he should feel vindictive towards the boy.

* * *

_"Are you sure about this?"_

_"As much as I ever have been, Professor." Those vibrant eyes undid him every time. But still…_

_"This spell borders on Dark, Miss Evans…"_

_"I'm not afraid of the dark," she hissed back._

_"Then let us begin."_

_Thus they worked. He instructed her calmly and gently, letting her feel and understand the whole working of the spell, the ritual, the working… He watched the magics fill her and complete her, watched her bend them to her will and create such wonder…_

_By Merlin and all things holy, she was beautiful._

_When they were finished, when the exhaustion was too much to continue, she gifted him with her brilliant smile._

_"Thank you, Professor," she murmured._

_"It was nothing for my favorite pupil."_

_Her expression saddened just slightly but he didn't know why. Then it was gone and he wondered if it had been there at all._

_"Good night."_

_"Good night, Miss Evans." _

_Conditions Met:_  
1. Voldemort must be Harry's father  
3. Sirius comes back


	7. Star Light, Star Bright

**Another Life**

**Warnings:** Yaoi/Slash, Angst, DARK themes, Backstabbing, Incest, Yuri/Fem-slash, and other various nastiness. Hard R rating.  
**Disclaimer:** Ain't mine. 

**Chapter 6  
Star Light, Star Bright**

It always started nice. Sitting in a field, staring over a vast ocean, exploring a forest… But soon enough, it always twisted until he barely knew who he was anymore. He would scream and kick and cry and fight, but he was always helpless in the face of his nightmares, just as helpless as he was in the waking hours. 

He couldn't run fast enough when Vernon chased him. 

He couldn't get away when Vernon grabbed him. 

He couldn't dodge when Vernon hit him. 

He couldn't escape when Vernon broke him. 

Over and over and over, no matter where in the dreamscape he went, it never stopped. Vernon always found him and he awoke trembling and crying. He hated himself for being so weak that he let the big muggle hurt him. He hated being hurt and crying and keeping Snape awake and so many other things that he just wanted to scream until he died. And oh, did he ever want to die… 

Snape would never forgive him if he did, and that's why he was still alive. 

It wasn't so much that Harry cared for the older man, more that he needed him and his approval. He needed it, longed for it, would die for it. Snape didn't expect him to bounce back or to be perfect. All Snape expected was an annoyance and as long as Harry didn't annoy him, he had already pleased the man. Harry wanted desperately to please someone, anyone, without the fear of rejection. Snape had rejected him years ago, and so he was safe. 

Far safer than sleeping, anyway. Vernon had found him so quickly this time. 

Before Vernon could crush his throat, he was shaken awake. Snape was there, as he had been every time since his arrival, and Harry clung to him, shuddering as he recovered from the dream. The older man held him, rocked him back and forth as he murmured softly to him. Harry could make nothing of the words, but they helped him as much as the hand rubbing his back and cupped to the back of his head. He had needed this so very badly and hadn't even known before it was offered to him. 

Snape was very good at calming him. As Harry drifted back to sleep, calming draught settling in his stomach, the older man laid him back and pulled the sheets over him, pausing to brush a few black bangs from his face. The bruises and cuts were gone, replaced with planes of seamless pale skin. He was beginning to look like Harry Potter again. Skinny, messy haired, broken Harry Potter. Snape wondered why it didn't bother him as much as he thought it would. 

As he smoothed a few more strands from the boy's forehead, he idly noticed he needed a hair cut. The shaggy bangs were past his nose now and there was a fringe over his ears. Miraculous hair growth, actually. Snape theorized it had something to do with the amount of sheer magic the boy oozed unconsciously. 

A sudden pain struck up his arm as a location was firmly implanted into his mind. He quickly left the bedroom and headed down to Dumbledore's office. The boy could not be left alone. 

"Albus," he said immediately, clutching at the mark as another wave of pain coursed through him. "Find Lupin. Have him stay with Potter. I have to go." 

The Headmaster gave a nod and Snape left the school. 

----

He sat, not in front of the fire as he'd like to, but within cold stone that masqueraded as a throne. He wondered how he had ever thought it comfortable. At least Nagini, who was wrapped up over his feet, gave him some measure of warmth. He listened as she hissed about how her evening hunt had gone while he waited for the others to arrive. 

Narcissa was first, apparating to his side. She gave him a bow in greeting and he inclined his head. 

"Narcissa, you look better rested today," Lord Voldemort said. 

"My son has taken good care of me," she replied with a soft smile. 

"Black?" 

"He is waiting, my Lord." 

He turned back to Nagini, who pitched into a spiel about the different tastes of different rodents. Few would ever realize how chatty snakes could be when they knew someone was listening. 

At last, the arrival he was waiting for. Severus Snape aparated into the dungeon. He stepped forward and knelt in front of the Dark Lord. 

"Rise," murmured Lord Voldemort quietly. Snape did so, meeting his lord's eyes with concealed hesitance. He had realized that he and Malfoy were the only ones there. Lord Voldemort let him suffer a few minutes of silence before getting up. 

"Come," he said simply, stepping back from the throne and walking off. Snape hesitated only a moment before following, falling in step with Narcissa. He gave the woman a glance, but didn't dare say anything. She was almost amused. When they reached the door, Voldemort opened it and stepped through. The others followed without a word. 

Snape stopped dead in the doorway. He was quiet for exactly one second. 

"What the bloody hell?" 

Standing on the other side of the room, back leaned against the wall and arms folded over his chest, was Sirius Black, who looked just as shocked as he did. 

"You're dead," Snape muttered with a blink. "You're supposed to be dead." 

"I don't really have the details on why I'm not," Sirius shot back, scowling. 

"That would be my doing," said Narcissa, her lips quirking at the tension between the two men. "I called him back." 

"How?" Both men glared at each other after the question had been thrown by both. 

"As a blood relative," she began, still smirking with amusement, "I already had a connection with my dear cousin. It was only a matter of finding his soul and binding it to mine." 

"And the body?" Snape wondered. 

"His was never destroyed, just put in a kind of stasis." 

"I see." The Potions Master didn't look any happier. Lord Voldemort motioned for him to sit as he did so. The room had four chairs, soon filled by the four adults, surrounding a small table, and a cosy fire burning in the corner. The rest of it was starkly bare, not even a rug on the floor. 

"There are a great many questions on your minds," Lord Voldemort began quietly, and no one dared voice the sarcastic replies to his statement. "This meeting is, predictably, about Harry Potter." 

"I already told you I wouldn't help you hurt him!" Sirius ground out. Narcissa cuffed him sharply on the back of the head. 

"Be quiet, Cousin!" 

"Yes, Mr. Black, do keep your tongue," Lord Voldemort murmured with amusement. The animagas glares at him. "Certain information has come to light regarding Potter that makes my harming him next to impossible." 

The three could just barely contain their sudden surprise. Lord Voldemort pulled out an old envelope and set it down on the table between them. 

"This was sent to me seventeen years ago, spelled to arrive one week ago in the sender was no longer living." 

Slowly, he turned it over and in careful script in the corner was the name and address of Lily Potter. They stared at it. Sirius reached out to pick it up, only to drop the thing again as it burned his fingers. 

"The hell would she have to say to you!" 

Lord Voldemort gave him a sharp look. "As amusing as your outright defiance of me is, do keep it restrained." 

Sirius simply glared back, but he was comforted to see slight fear in his eyes. Lord Voldemort drew back his sleeve and showed the simple ring on his finger. 

"The letter was enchanted so that only one wearing this ring would be able to read it." 

"How extraordinary," Narcissa said quietly. 

"How did you come to own the ring, my Lord?" Snape wondered, though his voice held back most of his curiosity. 

"It is part of a set, actually," the Dark Lord said absently as he settled back in his chair, gazing at the silver band. "As to why I have it…It was because she and I were lovers." 

Sirius's chair slammed back as he jumped to his feet. "LIAR!" 

Snape and Narcissa didn't know what shocked them the most: the affair or Sirius's gall. Voldemort regarded Sirius coldly. 

"Believe what you want," he hissed as he picked up the envelope and pulled out the letter. His eyes shot back to the elegant writing he knew better than his own and he slowly began to read. Sirius stayed standing as he listened, shaking his head in nonverbal denials with each word. Snape and Narcissa were silent, but Narcissa was remembering the words the master had said to her: 'What is a man that can kill the woman he loves?' And she suddenly realized with cold clarity what he meant. 

_"…Harry is your son."_

"NO!" Sirius yelled. "It isn't true! He can't be!" 

"Believe me, Mr. Black," Voldemort muttered quietly. "I have been trying to tell myself the same thing." 

"This is a trick…some sick joke…It can't be…" 

Snape almost felt sorry for the dog man, but he was a little more busy thinking about the new revelation. Real or not, it would definitely make things harder on his charge. He watched Voldemort, trying to find the slightest hint of deception, but found nothing. 

"Wait." Sirius's voice held a sudden suspicion as he stared at the letter. "That's addressed to Tom Riddle. There was a professor our last year with that name…This letter wasn't for you, it was his! I knew Lily had a thing for that guy, but she still married James." 

"How observant," Voldemort said carefully as he stood. Sirius took a step back, as if he expected to be cursed. The Dark Lord reached into his robes and extracted a photograph before handing it over. Sirius watched him with distrust as he took it and glanced at it. It was a simple snapshot, made by a muggle camera, as it wasn't moving at all. The two in the photo were smiling cheerfully. The man had his arms around the woman's shoulders and his head was set beside hers. She was turned slightly to him and her dainty hands settled upon his. Sirius felt like swearing. It was the young, freshly graduated Lily Potter in Professor Riddle's arms. 

"What does this prove, except that they were together for a while?" Sirius muttered, lifting his eyes. 

"Simple." The Dark Lord's crimson eyes narrowed dangerously. "I looked very different when I was that young." 

There was a silence. Even Narcissa hadn't made the connection during her schooling. Abruptly Snape's eyes widened. 

"The absences." 

All eyes settled on him, but he didn't notice. 

"Professor Riddle was always disappearing for weeks and came back exhausted." His eyes were bright as he put it all into place. "They were too random for him to be a werewolf and I heard him talking to one of the others about 'missing time'… Of course. It was during out school years that the Death Eater attacks became more violent." 

"I thought you would be the first," Voldemort said quietly. He took the photo back from Sirius and sat back down. "You are correct. I was leading my followers and all the while teaching youngsters the art of protecting themselves." 

"You sick bastard," Sirius whispered. 

"Yes," replied the Dark Lord. "The problem being...that I had no knowledge of it." 

----

__

"This is wrong…" 

"I don't care." 

"Please, don't do this…" 

Her fingers felt deliciously good in his hair, gently caressing the strands as her nails lightly scratched his scalp. The curves of her body fit so perfectly against his, as if they had been molded just for him. Her breath was quick despite her determination and he could feel it against his face, hot and promising. 

"Please no… I'm your teacher, Miss Evans, there are rules-" 

"Dash the rules," she whispered fervently back and suddenly her lips had captured his and his arms were wrapped about her. Such a spark ran through him, and by Merlin did he love it. Love her. This beautiful woman who presented herself so fully for the taking, not innocent to the dangers of the world but instead fighting against them with all of her strength. This gutsy red haired girl that had strode right into his office and planted herself in his lap with her sudden declaration of love. This child… 

He pushed her away. "No, Lillian. We can't." 

"I love you, Thomas," she growled back, but he saw the hesitance in her gaze, saw the rejection she felt. "I don't care if anyone finds out. I'll be graduating in two months." 

"I'm old enough to be your father," he whispered, lowering his gaze. Soft hands rose and came to his cheeks, enveloping them in comforting warmth as she lifted his head. 

"I don't care," she murmured so softly, her face so very close to his. "Love is beyond age. Do you love me, Thomas?" 

And as he gazed into her eyes, he knew the full truth of the matter. 

"Yes, Lillian. I do." 

----

_Conditions Met:_  
1. Voldemort must be Harry's father  
3. Sirius comes back 


	8. Hushabye Mountain

**Another Life**

**Warnings:** Yaoi/Slash, Angst, DARK themes, Backstabbing, Incest, Yuri/Fem-slash, and other various nastiness. Hard R rating.  
**Disclaimer:** Ain't mine. 

**Chapter 7  
Hush-a-bye Mountain**

When Snape returned to Hogwarts near dawn, he gave his customary report to Dumbledore…but there was very little in the report that was actually true. No one had died and there wasn't a new plot to kill Harry, after all. And he didn't mention a bit about Sirius Black's sudden revival. Snape didn't really know why he felt the need to give this false report, but his instincts were his best guides. He wasn't sure if Dumbledore took his words for truth, since the man gave no indication either way. 

As he went on back to the dungeons, he wondered when he had started hiding things from the headmaster. It began small, omitting little spats to keep his dignity. He'd never lied so fully to the man. It made him actually feel ill. Then he remembered the little boy in his rooms who's nightmares were bad enough to scar even the harshest men and he didn't feel ill anymore. 

His thoughts turned to the conversation with the Dark Lord. It was the strangest talk he'd had with the man, and it was even more strange that none of them, not even that idiot Black, had been cursed even once. The Dark Lord dismissed them to think about his proposal. 

Snape made a living at lying to the Dark Lord and getting away with it. He wasn't bothered by this, nor that another few lies had been told during their latest meeting on the subject of Harry Potter. The Dark Lord did not know where Harry was at the moment, except that it wasn't with the Dursleys, and Snape had not deemed to tell him with this visit. He'd grown protective of the child. 

A child that could very well be the son of the Dark Lord. A boy with a prophesy over his head. 

He opened the door and stepped inside, zeroing in on Remus Lupin's form on the chair. He was asleep, the fire casting odd shadows on his face and salt-and-pepper hair. It made him look like a specter, not truly there on his plane. Lupin, he knew for a fact, was turning forty this year, but looked twice that most of the time. At the moment…he looked far, far younger. The creases of his face were less pronounced in sleep, smoothed by oblivion. He still looked far too worn for his own good. Snape stepped over quietly and shook him awake. 

"Oh, hello Severus," Remus murmured sleepily. He got up and stretched, rubbing a hand through his already mussed hair. "How did it go?" 

"It was an…interesting meeting," was the quiet reply. Snape folded his arms over his chest and gave the other man a hard stare. "How is Harry?" 

"He tried to wait up for you, thought I told him not to," Remus said softly. "He was very agitated when he found out where you were." 

"I see…" 

"Severus, I'm worried about how fixated he is on you." 

"What?" One dark brow raised. 

"The other day, I came in and he was watching you sleep." Remus frowned. "It was as if he thought you'd die if he looked away. And his expression when he was waiting for you…" 

"We will deal with it when it becomes a problem," Snape interrupted sharply. Remus fell silent. "Right now, I'm more concerned with his full physical recovery." 

"Yes…There was a check up this evening. Madam Pomfrey said the damage throughout his body was mended and that his throat was as healed as it can be." Remus sighed a bit "She thinks there won't be any permanent physical side effects, but wants Harry to gain some weight." 

"His voice?" 

"It's suppose to be fine. He'll be able to talk when he decides to." 

Severus sat down in the chair Remus had just occupied. "There may be a mental block against it just like the physical one…" 

"That's what she thought as well," Remus replied quietly as he leaned against the mantel. Snape closed his eyes a moment collecting his thoughts, before turning to Remus again. 

"Do you remember Professor Riddle?" 

"Yes. Seventh year, DADA. Real nice guy, actually… I liked him better than the guy before him." 

"What about Lily Evans? What did she think of him?" 

Remus blinked in surprise. "She was rather taken by him, actually. Drove James nuts. A few of the girls had crushes on the guy. He must have been nearing fifty, if not past it, so I don't know what the interest was about…" 

"And after graduation?" Snape's eyes narrowed. "Did they interact?" 

"They dated and then she moved in with him." Remus shrugged a little. "It was odd how well they meshed, but she was so deliriously happy so I didn't question it. We all thought they would marry for sure." 

"What happened?" 

"They broke up, really abruptly, and she married James a bit later." The wolf shifted uneasily. "Why are you asking all this?" 

"Nevermind that," Snape snapped. He got up and moved towards Harry's bedroom. "Good night, Lupin." 

Remus almost said something but held back and instead nodded. "Right. Good night, Severus." 

He left as Snape entered Harry's room. The boy was still in his bed, chest rising and falling slowly with breath. The covers had dropped halfway down his chest by movement and the dark red of his shirt made his skin look that much paler in the darkness. Black hair spilled messily like a halo around his slack face. Snape sat down on the bed beside him and brushed a few locks from his face. 

"Can it really be true?" he whispered into the darkness. The only reply was the sound of soft, steady breathing. 

----

It seemed as if he were quietly contemplating all the time now. Where before was a raving lunatic she had been secretly planning to abandon with her son in tow, now sat this quiet, pained father who didn't know what to do about his son. The mother in her told her to be wary and to protect this other child as well as she was able. The servant in her told her to find the child and bring him to her Master, regardless of the consequences. The woman in her told her to wait and be wary of either choice, for the woman in her was the survivor. 

How very strange it was that she followed the course of the woman and not the other two, as was the usual. She waited, watched, studied this man, the Dark Lord. She saw him struggling with new revelations and a suddenly clear mind. He was actually thinking, not scheming or reacting, and that made more of a difference than anything else. 

"Narcissa?" he asked. 

"Yes, my Lord?" 

He was quiet a moment before he turned to look at her. 

"How could I do this to myself?" 

She blinked in surprise and stared at him. Voldemort stared back with just as much shock as she herself had. It was so odd to see that reptilian face show anything at all. 

"How could anyone shatter their soul and mutate their body the way I have?" he pressed, getting up. He looked down at his hands, eyes trailing over the skeletal thinness of each finger. "I'm a monster, Narcissa, and I did it to myself." 

"My Lord, there were probably consequences to immortalitly-" 

"I remember taking glee in the changes my body underwent. It's…dreamlike. As if I were only watching it and someone else was pulling the strings." He stared at her once more. "As if the man I was twenty years ago simply vanished into the shell that is Lord Voldemort." 

She said nothing. 

"I was happy, Narcissa." His voice was suddenly so weak that she could scarcely bear hearing it. "I was happy with her. We were going to be married, do you understand that? Married and start a family of our own. She loved me, no matter how much older I was. She loved me." 

Narcissa only stared. Slowly, the emotion dropped from his face and he sat down, looking back at the fire. 

"I don't understand why it ended. She left the house a week after I proposed to her and married him three months after that." 

Slowly, she moved to sit across from him. His eyes were far away and in such pain. She hated seeing him so weak, but it thrilled her to know that the Dark Lord was still human, somewhere in that damned body of his. 

"Did she realize how much younger Potter was?" 

"You discredit this woman you loved by that thought, my Lord," replied Narcissa quietly. His eyes settled on hers and locked, waiting. "If Lily Evans loved you, your age mattered little to her." 

He slowly nodded and closed his eyes, laying his head back on the headrest. 

"Did you speak to her afterward?" Narcissa prompted cautiously. 

"Yes. She came to me half a year later." He sighed softly, reaching up to rub his temples. "I didn't care if it was wrong. I was just happy she came back to me. She couldn't stay, not with a husband waiting at home, but she visited as much as she could. I still loved her and…she still loved me." 

"An affair…" 

"I asked her so many times why she married him when she loved me, but…" He opened his eyes and dropped his hands into his lap, staring at them. "Her eyes would go sad and she never could tell me." 

"What about her family? Perhaps they forced the marriage to the Potters for the social standing?" 

"They were muggles. They wouldn't care about Wizard social status." 

"James Potter then. Maybe he enchanted her." 

"As much as I hate the man, I doubt he would use such methods to gain a wife. Even I acknowledge his honor." 

Narcissa decided then, as she watched defeat roll through the Dark Lord's gaze for the first time, that she would get to the bottom of this. Lily Evans' secrets would not be buried. 

----

"The boy should be moved." 

Dumbledore returned his steady glare with a somber stare and nodded as he took up a lemon drop. 

"Grimmauld Place is-" 

"No." The headmaster looked startled for only a moment at Snape's refusal. "That house will only drive him to suicide with thoughts of Black. The boy is teetering on the edge as it is." 

"Where do you propose he is taken?" 

"My home. I already have taken responsibility of him-" 

"Without order, I remind you-" 

"-So it is not an inconvenience to move him there, where I should be anyway." He settled back in his chair, black eyes determined. "You can put whatever wards you see as necessary onto my home, but Potter cannot be left here." 

"So, the Dark Lord knows where he is?" 

"Not yet, but he is looking. With the Dursley home destroyed, there is only one other place he would think of searching, and at the moment, there are only four people here to protect Potter." 

"I see." 

Was it his imagination, or did Dumbledore seem disappointed in his analysis? Snape pushed that thought away. When he wasn't in the man's presence, he could think whatever he wanted. 

"When will you be ready?" 

"When the wards are finished." 

"Good. Do tell dear Harry the good news." 

Snape bid him good day and left the office. He didn't miss the harder glint in the Headmaster's eyes. As he walked back towards this child he had come to protect, he made a decision. 

Even if Voldemort was Harry's father, he couldn't let the Dark Lord get his hands on Harry Potter until he was absolutely sure no harm would come to him. 

He wouldn't trust him to Dumbledore either. 

----

_ "What do you think of children, Thomas?" _

He glanced up from his writing and looked at her. She stood quietly and the window, resting a shoulder against the glass as she gazed out. The fading light cast golden streaks in her red hair and along the features of her face, turning her from a beautiful woman to a glorious goddess. His breath caught as she turned and looked back at him, emerald eyes questioning. 

"Do you want some?" he asked. 

"Do you?" 

He looked away from her and leaned back in his chair, giving the matter thought. Before Lillian, he had never thought much for families and didn't think he would ever need nor want one. Now, as she watched him from the window, he wondered if he did, indeed, want a family to love as much as he loved her. Sometimes, it was almost painful to look at her, his chest so tight with the bounty of his feelings for her. Could he really stand to feel such a way for a child? He looked back at her, watching the near disappointment she tried to hide, and smiled. 

"It sounds wonderful." 

At once, her smile brightened his entire world and as he took her to his bed that night, he wondered how he could ever have been so lucky. 

----

_Conditions Met:_  
1. Voldemort must be Harry's father  
3. Sirius comes back 


	9. Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary

**Another Life**

**Warnings:** Yaoi/Slash, Angst, DARK themes, Backstabbing, Incest, Yuri/Fem-slash, and other various nastiness. Hard R rating.  
**Disclaimer:** Ain't mine.

**Chapter 8  
Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary**

The move of Harry to Snape's small home was done in secrecy. It wasn't the normal kind of secrecy that the Order partook of, as that they all knew, but one where only the three men directly involved were at all privy. Or should have been, had Remus Lupin not butted into it. Thus he was added to the circle and sworn into secrecy. He was to assist Snape in Harry Potter's care and repair the boy's mental wellbeing before school began.

Remus wasn't sure at all how that was suppose to happen. He seemed like an intruder to the ballet surrounding Snape and Harry's interactions. The days they had spent together gave them the understanding needed to keep out of each other's ways, but still maintain the security of being close. Remus often interrupted this without meaning to and the odd looks both gave him were rather disconcerting. He quickly learned and after a few days, was able to stay out of their ways as well as they did for each other. The soft acceptance and understanding between them was something he wasn't sure he would ever emulate.

Snape lead Harry to his bedroom, with Remus trailing a fair distance behind. He was sure both knew he was there, but he wanted to see once again, with his own eyes, as Severus Snape changed from a hard assed teacher to a kindly companion. He felt a sick sort of interest in the kindness Snape gave to no other, the caring he showed for a young boy who desperately needed it but didn't dare ask. James Potter may have given Harry life, but Severus Snape was giving him a father.

Remus held back at the door, listening as Snape gave his good night, the soft rustling of cloth pulled up around the younger's body, the slight whisper of Harry's voice in the night. It was such a terribly intimate thing that he felt ashamed of himself to eavesdropping, and yet so very needed to know that such tenderness was possible, if only to give his hopes a little more value.

He soon left them to finish the nightly words, as the two tended to talk for a while before going to sleep, and went into the living room, dropping himself into one of the comfortable couches. It bothered him that he listened in, but both knew he did it and hadn't said anything. Maybe it was a need to see Harry happy for a few moments of the day, or maybe it was a need to witness the closeness of family between two who had hated each other, or maybe it was simply a longing for such closeness. Since the death of his parents, the only time he felt that was for the brief years Sirius had been out of prison and alive. Now, he didn't even have that.

Remus jumped in surprise as Snape laid a hand on his shoulder. The werewolf looked up at him, feeling like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar. Now, finally, Snape would tell him to cease his voyeuristic ways. Now he would forbid him from witnessing another side. Now he would throw him out of the house. Now…

"Harry is worried about you." Remus blinked. He hadn't expected that at all. Snape's steady, blank look didn't change as he continued. "He says you look more tired every day."

"Oh."

He looked down at his lap and his hands as they rested on his thighs.

"Are you having nightmares?"

His head jerked back up and he noted vaguely Snape had moved to his side. He was rather surprised at the sudden inquiry, but figured it had more to do with Harry.

"Yes."

"Would you like some Dreamless Sleep potions?"

Remus's golden eyes snapped onto him again, wider at the offer.

"No…No, that won't be necessary."

Snape's lips pursed tightly. "As you will. Do not let your lack of sleep impair your handlings with the boy, or I will take care of it. Understood?"

"Yes," murmured Remus as he continued to stare. Snape glared back for a few more moments before whipping around and stalking off. The poor werewolf could only guess at what, exactly, had actually gone on between them.

----

"I want to see him."

Narcissa lifted her gaze. "You know that isn't possible yet."

"I know." He sat on the window seat, one knee drawn to his chest as he stared out the window. His black hair was short cropped and made him look so very different than the criminal he had been and the boy she remembered. Sirius still retained that playboy beauty, but it was tempered now, more noble than boyish. The light stubble across his jaw made him seem rugged and mysterious, along with those haunted blue eyes. The particulars of his appearance weren't tempered by his clothing, tailored to fit by Narcissa's favored seamstress. Though, these clothes meant very little when the man could still not leave her mansion prison.

"I know but I want…I need to…."

"You need to know he's all right."

He glanced at her, pinning her with that sorrowful gaze and she felt her heart clinch just a little.

"Exactly."

"That's natural for family."

"Family?"

She might have laughed at his expression, were the subject not something she had intimate experience with.

"Yes, cousin. You are, most certainly, a member of Harry Potter's family." She managed a small smile, but his face didn't change. They stared at one another, silence permeating.

"No," he replied quietly. "I was just his friend."

"I see." She didn't let him drop it. "I suppose that's why you're sitting there, waiting for the day you'll see him again. Why you've barely slept since I pulled you from the mirror, worrying over the child. Why you've spoken of little else than him. Why-"

"Are you finished yet?"

She gave him a narrow look and stood. "You don't have to be a blood relative to be family, Sirius Black. You just have to love them."

He said nothing. Shaking her head softly, Narcissa left him to continue staring out the window.

----

"Where is he!"

"Ron, pacing across the floor isn't going to change anything."

"Well it makes me feel just the slightest bit better!"

"Well it doesn't do a thing for me!"

"Oh, shut up, Hermione!"

"RONALD WEASLEY! YOU SAY THAT TO ME AGAIN AND I WILL CURSE YOU SO BAD, YOU'LL BEG ME TO KILL YOU!"

Silence.

"…I'm sorry 'Mione… You know I don't mean it…."

"Yes, Ron."

"You can hit me if you want."

"No thank you, Ron."

"…What about calling me stupid? That helps, right?"

Silence.

"'Mione?"

Silence.

"Aw, 'Mione, please don't be mad…"

Silence.

"I said I was sorry!"

"I know that, Ron."

"…You're gonna be mad for a while, aren't you?"

"Yes, Ron."

----

Well. That was it, then. The fifth test came out the exact same as the others.

Snape stared at the pale blue liquid in the test tubes, noting the lack of variations in the color and consistency. Perfect positives.

He had rebrewed the potion every time, making sure that he hadn't messed up one step, though he had faith in his abilities. There was no question that the potion had been perfect. Thus, the results must be true.

Gathering the pieces of the concoction had been difficult. After all, most of it was rather expensive. The easiest component to retrieve, which surprised him greatly, as a sample of the Dark Lord's blood. He had given it freely once Snape explained what he meant to do. A complete trust that was so very alien to Lord Voldemort, but it had been there. He had no inclination that Snape had been playing the traitor for years. Snape almost felt bad about it. Almost.

The next easiest had been the sample from Harry Potter. The boy had been noticeably unnerved by the thought of someone taking his blood, and from what he'd heard about the end of the Last Task, Snape didn't blame him. Still, the boy had been easily persuaded. Remus, who had witnessed it, commented later on that it probably had something to do with Harry's need for Snape's approval. The darker man was somewhat disturbed at that prospect.

The tests proved positive. Perfect positives. One question answered and a million others just waiting behind. Snape sat down and stared at the vials.

"Severus?" He glanced up and saw Remus at the door, cautiously peeking through.

"Come in," he murmured. The werewolf did so and came to the front of his work bench. He glanced over the vials curiously.

"What were these?"

"Paternity test."

"You finished already? What's the result?"

"Positive."

Remus looked at the vials with a more uneasy expression. "You did test with a sample from James, didn't you?"

Snape wondered if he should tell Remus. The lycanthrope was notorious for worrying and he upset Harry enough with it. Anything added to the weight might bring about a change for the worse in his charge. He didn't even dare to wonder how it would affect him to see Remus upset.

"That is none of your concern."

Snape got up and banished the potions before going about in his cleaning routine. He kept his personal lab meticulously clean, as any slight disturbance in his potions could be disaster. Remus, however, didn't let him get far. A moment later, Snape found himself slammed up against one of the stone walls with an angry werewolf pressed against him.

"What do you mean it isn't my concern! Harry is my concern!"

Snape glared back steadily into the amber gaze, not allowing himself to react to the harsh scent that stirred up unwanted memories of terror and pain.

"Harry will benefit most from you being completely intact, Lupin," he snarled. "That means keeping disturbing information away from you, incase you inadvertently hurt the boy."

"Disturbing information! Damn it, Snape! Who is Harry's father!"

Lip curling and black eyes narrow, Snape growled out the most hated word in the wizarding world.

"Voldemort."

----

_There was a dead man on the floor. Unseeing eyes stared up at him accusingly from a paling face. Blood was everywhere. It covered the man, the floor, the walls… Another man, slashed to pieces. A woman, laying against one of the walls as if she were just sitting, and not dead. _

_He looked at his hands. Crimson dripped from them. He was covered in blood. Blood. Their blood. Why was he covered in blood? _

_He couldn't breath. What was going on? Why was he in a room with these people…these dead people…and covered in blood…their blood covered him… _

_The world began to sway. He stumbled back through an open doorway and onto the hallway floor. Another corpse stared from right beside him. He couldn't help the scream that ripped from him. He knew every curse that had been used on these people. With a shocking clarity, he recognized the subtle signs of different curses, mapping out the poor people's deaths in his mind. _

_He didn't remember how he got out of the house or how long he walked along the streets. He shed his robes at some point and simply walked, staring at those bloody hands. _

_"Thomas?" _

_Slowly, he lifted his head and stared. She stared right back, her eyes wide with horror. _

_"Lillian," he whispered faintly. He didn't even recognize that wisp of sound but it broke her and she rushed to him. She spoke in a panic that was too quick for his shocked mind to comprehend and rushed him inside. She cleaned his hands and his face, stripped him of the sodden clothing and dressed him anew. He let her without any resistance. The faces of the dead stared from behind him. _

_"Thomas, what happened?" she murmured as she rubbed a soft white towel against his cheeks. He realized belatedly that he was crying and had been for some time. _

_"Dead," he whispered to her. "They're all dead." _

_"Who are dead, Thomas? Who are?" _

_"I don't know." His voice broke into a pathetic whine as he felt the horror bubble into more tears that threatened to become even worse. She pulled him against her, stroking his hair as he continued to speak. "I don't know who they were. I was just there. I don't know how I got there but I was covered in their blood, Lillian, I was covered and the blood was everywhere and they were dead, Lillian, they were ripped apart…" _

_She soothed him with her touches and soft words, desperately staving off her own fear. When he had quieted, she took him to bed and held him through the night as nightmares ravaged his mind. And when the morning came, she almost cried as the front page of the Prophet was splashed with a grisly massacre and the Mark in the sky. _

----

A/N: Okay, FF.N deleted this and I was just able to get it back up. Sorry about that...I lost all the reviews I had so if you asked a question last chapter, try again and lets see if I can't get it answered.

_Conditions Met:_  
1. Voldemort must be Harry's father  
3. Sirius comes back


	10. Hickory, Dickory, Dock

**Another Life**

**Warnings:** Yaoi/Slash, Angst, DARK themes, Backstabbing, Incest, Yuri/Fem-slash, and other various nastiness. Hard R rating.  
**Disclaimer:** Ain't mine. 

**Chapter 9  
Hickory, Dickory, Dock **

Remus hadn't been in the house for three days. Harry didn't ask. Snape didn't explain. 

Still, the absence was felt. There was no one to watch the nightly ritural. No one to smile for no reason except that no one else did. No chamomile tea brewing in the kitchen. No new slabs of chocolate waiting in the refrigerator. 

Harry paused by every window, looking out for a figure that was never there. He was confused, almost hurt, but he didn't try to understand these feelings. He pushed them away, laying them in his secret box of emotions and locking them out. Another time, he might open the box, but he couldn't afford to now. Not yet. 

At the end of the third day, a package appeared on the house's doorstep. Inside was a small pendant and a note. Snape tested the pendant thoroughly for curses and found nothing but a musical spell, set to trigger when one held the stone in the palm of their hand. It didn't work until Harry picked it up from the table. The quiet, almost sorrowful voice of a man sang so very gently with the sweet melody and Harry found himself mouthing the words. 

'A gentle breeze from Hushabye Mountain…softly blows o'er lullaby bay… It fills the sails of boats that are waiting…waiting to sail your worries away…' 

He didn't know why the lullaby was so very familiar to him, not how the words spilled into his mind. He didn't mind not knowing though, and cherished the song itself. 

The note had no signature, but Snape had a suspicious of who had sent it. There were three words in an elegant script he found unnervingly familiar. 

'I love you,' said the note of a mother long gone. 

As the days of Remus' absence went on, Snape wandered his home with the tone of a man thoroughly disgusted with himself. He knew he should have used more discretion in revealing Harry's father, that it had been completely against his own principles to let anger force his hand and deliver such news without care. His arms were still marked with bruises where Remus' fingers dug into his skin. 

The werewolf looked like he'd been slapped. And then he was gone and no one had heard from him. The Order was in shambles. Half of them wanted to kill him for driving Remus away and the others were simply too worried about Remus to hate him. For the moment. 

He told them the argument had been about Black. No word of Harry's parentage had been spoken. Most of them took his lie for truth, but a few saw through him, or at least thought they did. Moody was convinced he'd killed Remus and buried the body so no one would find him. Tonks thought much the same and gave him the foulest glare she could muster. Red hair and fiery eyes included. 

And then there was Dumbledore and his disconcerting blue eyes. Dumbledore knew he was lying. 

He didn't know how much longer the Headmaster would let it go before confronting him finally. 

With a sign, Snape resigned himself to the fact that he would have to tell the man at some time about Voldemort and Harry's relationship. He didn't much care 

----

"My Lord!" 

Voldemort lifted his head, gazing disdainfully at the robed figure before him. His eyes narrowing, he set down the scroll he had been working on and got up, towering over his underling. The man trembled and dropped his eyes. 

"Why have you disturbed me?" Lord Voldemort asked in a low, seething voice. Another visible shudder went down the man's back. 

"M-My Lord, we have caught one of your enemies! Minor, yes, but still filled with information about Dumbledore! We have seen him near the man and-" 

"Where?" was the interrupted order. The crimson eyes took a decidedly colder look. 

"Held in the dungeon, my Lord, with -" 

Lord Voldemort had already taken leave of him. Striding down the hallways, his robes billowing out behind him, he strode past the guards of the dungeon, barely recognizing them, much less listening to their muttered greetings. 

In the last cell was what might have been a wizard at one point. Instead, he had been wasted to the point of being barely human at all, resting against the corner with wild, defiant eyes staring out of dirty hair. His robes were ripped and torn, soiled by blood and dirt. What skin could be made out through the layer of filth was bruised and battered. Lord Voldemort sneered at the sight and turned to one of the guards. 

"How long have we had this man?" 

"T-Two days, my Lord. We found him wandering aimlessly." 

Crimson eyes narrowed dangerously, but he already knew why he hadn't been informed before. His visits to the Malfoy mansion. He looked at the shivering wreck of a man and decided. 

"Take him to Malfoy," he ordered coldly. The wild eyes widened a fraction before he was spelled. unconscious. "She will detain him until he is ready to be questioned." 

Their lord left quickly after. 

"At least we don't gotta deal with him," muttered on guard, glaring at the still body. 

"Yeah. Poor Malfoy has to get her dainty little fingers dirty for once," sneered the other. He gave the man on the floor a sharp kick just for the hell of it before getting him ready for transport. 

A few short hours later, the prisoner was given over to Narcissa Malfoy. She called the house elves to her and set about cleaning the man up and dressing his wounds. She felt disgusted with the range of bruises and recognized spell damage, but didn't let this stop her from directing the elves in their duties. Soon enough, the cleaned and tended to man was set into a guest room to rest. 

The prisoner slept until well into the night. Then his various, half healed wounds brought him back to a pained consciousness. He opened his eyes and was immediately met with the shape of a man leaning over his bed. Neither spoke for a long time, staring at one another. Slowly, the bedridden prisoner began to make out the other man's features, recognizing him before he spoke. 

"…Moony?" 

----

Even with the lullaby stone held tightly in his hand, tucked under his chin, singing that sweet melody, Harry dreamed. 

_The door shut with a definitive click that sent him into sudden alertness. He drug his trunk and Hedwig's cage to the stairwell, but the trunk was wrenched from his hand before he could take it to his room. Vernon gave him a glare and he quickly went up with Hedwig. He set her cage on the desk and tried not to be bothered by the loss of his things. _

The footsteps on the stairs sent a shiver down his spine. There was expectation and danger in the air but he didn't know why. He sat down on the bed and stared at the door. The footsteps came closer, then paused, and the doorknob turned. He waited for the door to swing open. 

"Boy," said Vernon in a quiet, deadly voice. Harry stood and told himself that he shouldn't be afraid. He was a wizard, for Merlin's sake. He could survive anything Vernon threw at him, and then some. After all, Vernon was just a muggle. He wasn't nearly as bad as the Dark Lord. But as he stared at the looming form of his uncle at the doorway, he couldn't help but be intimidated. 

"Uncle Vernon?" he chanced. The big muggle stepped into his room and shut the door. As soon as it clicked, he whipped around and set a glare upon the boy. 

"Keep your damn mouth shut, boy!" 

Harry blinked at the sudden vehemence. He didn't remember doing anything…and then he remembered the warning of the Order. 

A big, beefy hand grabbed the front of his shirt and hauled him off the ground. A moment later, he found himself flying across the room to slam his shoulder into the wall. He let out a pained shout and grabbed his aching shoulder, jerking his head up to stare at his uncle. 

"Did you think a threat from those freaks would protect you?" Vernon growled, approaching him again. Harry scrambled to his feet and tried the door, but it was locked from the outside. "Don't bother. Petunia won't open the door until I tell her to." 

That same hand grabbed his wounded shoulder and gripped hard. Harry gasped at the pain that struck through him, barely noticing as he was tossed to the floor. The rain of kicks upon his body quickly sent him into darkness. 

When Harry awoke, he was outside. Heat burned his back and strange shadows were being cast over the grass and flowers. He struggled to get up but his body felt like lead. Finally, he managed to sit and looked towards the heat. His eyes went wide. 

Burning-she was burning so brightly, look at the feathers-she was burning but there was no sound-he couldn't hear anything-why was she burning-MOVE! SAVE HER-can't move-can't hear anything-HEDWIG! 

His hair was roughly grabbed, but he didn't so much as cry out in pain as he was pulled to his feet by it. Vernon dragged his face close and sneered at the tears rolling down his cheeks. 

"Do you see that, boy? I shot her first. I'm not a monster like you." 

A pathetic whimper was all that Harry could utter. Vernon tossed him back to the ground and went to where Harry's trunk was sitting. He opened it and one by one, tossed every object into the flames. Harry screamed at him, but he couldn't get up to stop him. When the invisibility cloak disappeared into the fiery rage, he letting out a sobbing wail. Vernon didn't leave him for long. 

"It's high time to purify you of that damned taint, boy." 

Harry stared up at him as he tried to understand. Vernon grabbed his arm and dragged him up. 

"If you tell anyone about this, it won't be you that suffers the consequences." 

Everything went black. When he awoke, he was laying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. His body hurt and he didn't even try to move. Vernon came and yelled at him, told him just how much of a failure he was, a freak, an abomination. He didn't say a word. 

----

Remus wanted to scream. Instead, he simply stared up at his best friend, a man that was suppose to be dead. 

"Padfoot?" he whispered so faintly. The shadowy form shifted to sit on the side of the bed. 

"Yeah, Moony. It's me." 

"How?" 

"Malfoy did something… I don't know much about it." He shrugged a little and sighed. "In any case, I'm alive and a prisoner here. Seems you are too, now." 

Remus moved carefully to sit up and Sirius stuffed a pillow behind him to support him. 

"What now?" the wolf asked. Sirus gave him an odd little smile. 

"Oddly enough, be ready for a meal three times a day, fresh clothing to wear, and all the books you can imagine." 

Remus stared at him. "What?" 

"Apparently, Narcissa treats anyone in her house the best she can, even prisoners." 

"Oh…" 

Sirius glanced out the window. "I gotta warn you too…The Dark Lord visits a lot." 

"What!" Remus stared at him with wide amber eyes. Sirius sighed a bit. 

"It's weird, Moony," he continued quietly. "Like the guy's losing his damn mind. He said he didn't want to kill Harry." 

A tired look crossed Remus's face before he looked away. "Sirius…Voldemort is Harry's-" 

"Father. I know. How did you find out?" 

"Snape did a paternity test. How did you?" 

"Straight from the snake's mouth." He frowned deeply. "He had a letter from Lily." 

"Why would Lily ever have anything to do with the Dark Lord?" asked Remus as he raked his hand though his hair. "I just don't understand." 

"Do you remember Professer Riddle?" 

"That's the second time someone's asked me that…" 

Sirius started to ask who else, but stopped himself and gave his friend a tired look. "Remus, Professer Riddle is Voldemort." 

"You're joking," Remus breathed with horror. 

"And that's not even the half of it," murmured Sirius grimly. 

----

__

"Lillian!" 

"Please, Thomas, don't make this any harder than it has to be…" 

She didn't look at him as she packed her things. Her hands were sure and strong, unwavering in their duty. Almost harsh in the way they moved, so unlike her normal grace. 

"But…but why, Lillian?" The hurt, the utter desolation filled his voice. She didn't turn around, nor did her voice lose the strength in her resolve. 

"It's better for both of us." 

"Better be damned!" He grabbed her shoulders fast and whipped her around to look in his face. Brown eyes caught emerald, and she watched him break. She held him to her as tears raced down his face. Her fingers curled in his hair as he shook in her arms, his own wrapped around her waist. 

"What have I done wrong?" he asked in a desperate murmur, tightening his hold around her. His voice was so weak, so broken… 

"I don't love you, Tom," she said quietly and a shudder went down his spine. "I did once, but no more. Please understand me, Tom. Don't make this harder than it already is. 

"Why?" he whispered. She shook her head and drew herself completely from him. His accusing eyes didn't change her determination. 

"Please let me go, Tom." 

He stared at her and then slowly backed away. She stood still at the bedside. 

"Go then," he said simply, so much defeat in his tones. He gave her one last look before leaving her to finish packing and leave the house she had loved so much. 

----

A/N: A little short this time, but I couldn't make it go any longer... Next chapter, I should have one or two more conditions of the challange met... 

**Acknowledgements:**

**rosiegirl** - Heh, glad you're still hooked.  
**bnnvllpontiac** - I've got it in a few places, as well as a copy on my harddrive.  
**A.O.D was here 05** - What's A.O.D stand for?  
**Skull Bearer** - I'm glad you like the story...You made me blush, actually...  
**akuma-river** - I've got it on and my personal website, which isn't up yet.  
**dairygirl** - Hee, glad to have interested you!  
**Heather** - 1)Yes and no. 2)Yes and no. 3)Yes. 4)Yes and no. (and yes, I love not being very helpful.)

_Conditions Met:_  
1. Voldemort must be Harry's father  
3. Sirius comes back 


	11. Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater

**Another Life**

**Warnings:** Yaoi/Slash, Angst, DARK themes, Backstabbing, Incest, Yuri/Fem-slash, and other various nastiness. Hard R rating.  
**Disclaimer:** Ain't mine. 

**Chapter 10  
Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater**

Snape noticed, two weeks after Harry had been removed from the Dursley's, a fine layer of black hair beginning to appear on his charge's chin. It shocking him at first, for he had always thought of Harry as a child, then he remembered that the boy was indeed sixteen years old and was going through another stage in growth. What was even more surprising was the slight pain to his chest that the boy was quickly growing out of being a mere boy anymore, and making his way to manhood. 

Snape had always thought of Harry as a child and changing that perception caused him distress he didn't even want to think about. He wondered if he would ever feel normally about the boy again. 

That evening, Snape took Harry to the bathroom and taught him to shave. The boy was quiet as always and didn't show any hint embarrassment, even considering the two faces covered in thick, white shaving cream staring back at him. Snape promised to teach him a shaving charm once he was of age and could perform magic outside of school. They managed to get through the whole thing fairly well, only one nick decorating Harry's left cheek. After, the boy's face was returned to the hairlessness it had been, though he would never have the baby smooth softness of childhood again even with charms and potions. 

A day after the lesson, Snape was called. He wondered about leaving Harry alone, but then saw how wide the boy's eyes grew when he saw his guardian clutching his arm. Harry was not to be left alone. Going to the fireplace, Snape hoped he was making the right decision. 

"Of course. I'll send Alastor immediately to keep him safe," said Dumbledore's head from the fire. Snape nodded and turned to look at Harry, who was still looking at him with those wide, terrified eyes. 

"I will be back," Snape assured him. Harry just nodded and bit his lip. The older man was struck with a great amount of pity for the boy who was progressively losing everything he had. He stepped over and clasped Harry's shoulder firmly, unsure if he could give any better comfort. Harry smiled weakly at the effort. 

Snape left as soon as Moody arrived. He apparated to the Dark Lord's meeting place and, like the last time, there was only Narcissa and Lord Voldemort to meet him. Neither looked harried, but it wasn't normal for either to show much of that anyway and they were as masterful as he himself at hiding their feelings. Still, he was rather sure he would come from this meeting uninjured. 

"Come," invited the Dark Lord quietly as they made their way to the comfortable sitting room. The three took their seats as a house elf quickly set a tray of tea and such on the table for them. 

"Where is the boy?" 

It was abrupt but still so strangely soft, and the brilliant crimson eyes set Snape with such an intense look that he nearly choked on his tea. Nearly. 

"I have only been told he is safe," Snape replied. Voldemort's gaze narrowed, but he just nodded and looked down at his own cup. 

"Have you recieved any new information about him?" 

"None, my Lord. Only that he is well." 

Another nod. After that, they spoke of things that all of them knew were unimportant. The air of disappointment was thick enough for even the dimmest men to notice. It seemed the Dark Lord was truly counting on Snape to find his son. 

After a few tense, nerve wracking hours, the Dark Lord left to see to his Death Eaters. Snape moved to the apparation point, but Narcissa stopped him with a hand at his arm. 

"What are you hiding from our Lord?" 

Snape stared at her and lifted a brow. "What are you implying?" 

"I know you are not a traitor," she replied quietly, and he was almost shameful for being just that for a moment, "but I also know that there is something being hidden here." 

"I hide nothing from my Lord," he retorted. She looked at him a long while before sighing. 

"I trust you, Severus." She smiled ever so softly. "That is why I'll let this go." 

Snape was then released. He started to say something but stopped and only looked away. He returned to his home, glancing up at the pregnant moon that made him feel more uneasy than he should have. Before the door, he stopped. The house was quiet. Too still. The lights were all extinguished. Snape took out his wand as he entered. 

Nothing moved as the door creaked to full wideness. Snape cautiously entered the house, his eyes peering through the inky darkness. The moon cast frightening shadows and eerie light, making every object look dangerous and alive. Methodically, Snape moved from one room to the next, checking for damage, for struggle, for missing items, but mostly for a young man with hauntingly beautiful eyes. 

He found it in the last room. A table, toppled onto its side as if someone had run into it. The rug rumbled at one end, as if someone had kicked it. A glass of water shattered on the wood floor. The air still hummed with long spent magic. 

A powerful wave of rage overtook him as he realized what had happened. 

Harry was gone and Snape had a horrible idea of who had taken him. 

----

Remus noted his scent before the boy entered the room. After a night of rest, he had healed enough to move with some assistance, which Sirius gladly gave. They took to the library almost immediately. Remus was awed by the sheer volume of books and Sirius had a favored window to sit by and stare out. He had taken to day dreaming lately, as he was still weak from his resurrection. When the boy finally came in, Sirius was firmly cozied in his chair and Remus curled up in another with a volume on vampires in his hands. 

"So, we've taken in another stray," Draco said with a sneer. His voice didn't have quite as much bite as Remus remembered from teaching him, but it still wasn't close to being nice. He looked up at the blonde and smiled softly. 

"Hello, Mr. Malfoy," he greeted. Draco eyed him wearily 

"I figured you'd be in a cell by now," remarked the boy as he folded his arms. Sirius turned from the window and frowned at him, but Remus didn't rise to the bait. 

"No, I'm afraid the Dark Lord has a use for me, apparently," he said and looked back to his book. Draco scowled at the lack of effect and dropped into chair, glaring at his former professor. If Remus noticed, he didn't react to it. Draco just glared harder. 

"He's not going to burst into flames no matter how much you want him to," Sirius said nastily. Draco gave a little dismissive 'hmph' and promptly ignored the animagus. Instead, he rested his head on one fist and gave Remus a half lidded look. 

"So how's pitiful Potter?" he asked casually. Sirius' head shot up. He hadn't even thought to ask his best friend about his godson. Immediately, his blue eyes were drawn to Remus and he, along with Draco, noticed the dark look crossing the wolf's face. 

"Harry is…" The pause lasted too long. Draco lifted his head and looked at him pointedly. He hadn't expected anything to be wrong with Potter, except maybe a bit of angst over the deaths of his relatives. Sirius went ramrod straight at stared hard enough that Remus was sure he was going to have a hole burned through soon enough. He gave a little sigh and finished off lamely, "…recovering." 

"From what?" Draco asked flatly, lifting a brow. "The guy can't be too bad off." 

Remus shot him a hard look. "Just because someone smiles and says they're fine doesn't mean it's true, Mr. Malfoy. It would do you well to learn that." 

Draco blinked at the stern tone and looked away, feigning disinterest when it was really the blazing gold eyes that scared him off. 

"Remus?" Sirius asked hesitantly. "What happened?" 

"Harry was brought to Hogwarts." The lack of explaination was soothed by a look between the friends that meant it would be spoken of later. "The Dursleys are dead. Voldemort murdered them after Harry was gone." 

"He's safe?" 

"Yes, he's safe." The question of 'with who?' went unsaid because of the promise of information later. 

Draco made a mutter under his breath, but wisely didn't let it become more than that. After a long silence, he realized that nothing else would be said in his presence. Feigning boredom, he got up and left the library, but didn't go far. He knew how well one could hear words said in the library from other rooms. 

Remus gave a little sigh of relief when the boy left. It didn't last long as Sirius got up and came to sit closer. 

"What happened?" the animagus asked quickly. 

"Dursley beat him," Remus replied. It was quiet, near whispered, and Sirius saw red. If Vernon Dursley hadn't been dead already, Sirius would have killed him. "From what I was able to get from Poppy, he'd gotten a few broken in the few weeks he was there. There were bruises…everywhere. Weeks old, days old, hours old…Cuts untended…" 

Sirius looked away, his jaw clinched so hard that he was sure his teeth would break. The nails of his fingers dug into his palms hard enough to draw blood. 

"She…she thinks he was b-beaten regularly." 

At the stutter, Sirius forced himself to look at the other man. Remus had a hand shoved in his hair, his body bent over as he rested one arm on his knee, his eyes shut tight against the immoral world and pain etched on every part of his body. Sirius threw his arms around him and Remus clung to his reassurance because he desperately needed it. 

"That sick bastard crushed his throat," Remus whispered fervently. He began to shake as the tears of weeks finally broke through in his friend's embrace. "It took so long to heal and he still doesn't talk, Padfoot. He barely says a word and never loud, never ever loud, and that's not how it's suppose to be, Sirius, he was suppose to be happy and healthy and loved and my God, Padfoot, why couldn't he have been _loved_?" 

And every word broke Sirius' heart all the more. He found himself crying along with Remus, not daring to stop the flow of words that upset him with each passing second. 

"It's like he's stuck, Padfoot. He can't get past it. He attached to the first person who showed him any compassion and he can't trust anyone else, not even himself, and Merlin, the way he screams at night, Padfoot, the screams…" Remus' breath hitched as another sob left him. "I've never heard a child die, but I know that's what it sounds like and I can't…I can't do anything to help him…I'm useless…I can't do anything…" 

Sirius held him and stroked his back. He soothed the wolf with everything he had. And when Remus fell into an exhausted sleep against his chest, Sirius finally let himself break down completely and promised to every deity there was that he wouldn't let another soul hurt his godson ever again. 

Draco sat very still in the side room long after the two men quieted. 

----

Dumbledore's blue eyes were glinting that vile, almost sadistic glimmer of known victory. He had played his hand fabulously and he knew it. Caught in the trap, Snape could barely contain his complete and utter rage. 

"He is safe, I assure you," the white haired demon said in a content purr. "I know that he will be much happier where he is, tended to by the Weasleys. You know how Molly thinks of him as her son." 

Oh yes. He knew that. Everyone did. That didn't make it all right. 

"The other children are sure to draw him out of his shell." 

No, they wouldn't. 

"Surely, you wish for the boy's recovery." 

"Of course," Snape said tightly. But he knew it wouldn't come from Dumbledore's plans. No, the old bastard would definitely manipulate him into the perfect tool, just as he had done to Snape himself. The Headmaster smiled. 

"Your worry is transparent, my dear boy. I'm so glad that you have learned not to hate young Mr. Potter." 

Laughable. He was only glad to have the boy in his own hands now. 

"As Mr. Potter is-" Snape paused as he fought the urge to curse, "-safe in your care, I will return home for a quiet evening." 

"Sleep well, dear boy," replied Dumbledore with that damnable smile on his face. Snape turned on his heel stiffly and left Hogwarts all together. He went back to his home, straightened up the scene of the kidnapping, then stood in the middle of that room and tried to imagine what had happened. He could see it so very clearly in his mind. 

Harry sits on the little chair by the window with his book of rhymes in his lap. Moody comes through the door and tells him they're leaving. Harry refuses and Moody drags him out. Harry fights, knocks over the table, and at last, Moody stuns him and takes him away. 

Snape glared at the nursery rhyme book sitting so innocently on the table. He snatched it up with every intention to fling the thing against the wall - though he knew that it would do nothing to ease the situation - but stopped and simply stared at it. There, in his hand, was Harry's desperate plea for childhood. Snape brought it close, hugged the book to his chest. 

He knew what he had to do. 

----

_He woke up covered in blood again. This time, he was standing with his wand held tightly in a shaking hand. His robes were thick and heavy and a mask was on his face. His breathing was so loud that he could scarcely hear anything else. The mangled bodies laid still at his feet. Their blood soaked into the hem of his robes. He just stared at them. The woman looking back had green eyes. _

"Lillian," he whimpered, but it wasn't her body, nor would she clean him and soothe him from this horrible dream. She had gone. Left him alone. Months ago. 

He left the quiet, blood spattered house. Nothing made sense anymore. He kept finding himself in these places. Kept rubbing the blood from his skin, scraping it from under his fingernails, washing it from his hair. The smell of it lingered all the time. 

When he reached his house, he stripped the robes off and burned them. The blank, white mask, he kept, because for some reason he couldn't throw it away. His own hand rebelled and didn't allow it. Instead, he stowed it in the top of his closet. Then he went to his shower and spent a full hour scrubbing the blood from his body. Even after there was not a speck of it, he kept up, because he felt so very, very wrong and dirty and tainted and evil. 

His skin was pink and irritated when he laid down on the couch and stared up at the ceiling. The house was cold and quiet and dead. It had been that way since she left. He got a message just a week before. An invitation to her wedding to James Potter. 

He had never hated someone as much as he hated James Potter. That cocky, son of a bitch had stolen the only light in his life. He had quit teaching and instead spent his days doing odd jobs around the town. There was simply no drive left in him for anything more. 

She was getting married the next day and there was nothing he could do about it. 

----

A/N: Man, this chapter flowed... I wrote it in about three hours tonight. Okay, I know I said I'd reach one of the conditions this time, but I didn't. Next chapter, definately. 

**Acknowledgements:**

**rosiegirl** - Yes, it is rather silly but oh well... And he might.  
**animegurl088** - I've drawn some art for it, but I keep forgetting to post it on my deviantart account...  
**amy** - Glad to be of service  
**Dreamless** - It's pretty easy to feel sorry for everyone...and it's only gonna get worse.  
**sparkley-tangerine** - I love your name. And no, there will not be any SS/HP in this. Snape is more of a father figure. As for HP/DM, even I don't know. I have two couples planned but they're way off and aren't the main focus.  
**suu** - Again with the pairing? Can't say, kiddo. And eventually, Harry may join his dad. Gotta wait and see.

_Conditions Met:_  
1. Voldemort must be Harry's father  
3. Sirius comes back 


	12. London Bridge is Falling Down

**Another Life**

**Warnings:** Yaoi/Slash, Angst, DARK themes, Backstabbing, Incest, Yuri/Fem-slash, and other various nastiness. Hard R rating.  
**Disclaimer:** Ain't mine. 

**Chapter 11  
London Bridge is Falling Down**

Harry not moved since he awoke on the bed. He was unrestrained but felt no need to get up. No matter what, he was now a prisoner with those he should have been able to trust to understand him. Moody hadn't come back after dropping him off and Harry was somewhat relieved by that. Still, he was unresponsive to the kindness of Molly Weasley or her tearful eyes. Ginny's assertive voice telling him to stop being so weak and lazy did nothing. Even the jokes of Fred and George couldn't draw anything from him. Harry laid on his side, facing the wall, and simply waited. 

He knew it wouldn't be long. He trusted Snape to find him and take him home again. It was weak, but it was the only hope he had. 

The door opened, signaling the entrance of another visitor. Harry didn't move as the footsteps came closer. Curious. There seemed to be too many… 

"Harry?" 

His eyes opened, but he didn't turn at the familiar voice. She hadn't come before. The bed shifted as someone sat down and a hesitant hand touched his shoulder. 

"Mrs. Weasley said you were up here so I came to see you, and…" She trailed off because she didn't have a clue what to say to the despondent boy. He wasn't even sure what he wanted her to say. 

"We would have come earlier," muttered a second voice that was just as achingly familiar, "but Mum wanted to try getting to you first…Honestly, you'd think she'd remember who the best friends are." 

Slowly, Harry turned over and looked at them both, more voluntary movement than he'd displayed in hours. Hermione looked tired but still smiled at him as she gently pet his shoulder. Ron leaned against the bedpost, arms folded and a lazy look on his face. 

"Hungry?" he offered. "Mum said you hadn't eaten anything." 

Harry only stared at him before slowly shifting his gaze to Hermione. The girl moved her hand to pet his hair, brushing a few messy locks from his face. 

"We're worried about you, Harry," she said quietly. "What happened? Why won't you talk to us? Dumbledore said your throat was healed already and Remus-" 

Abruptly, the black haired boy sat up. His eyes bore into her as a quiet, whispered name escaped him. "Remus?" 

She looked surprised a moment, then sad. "He hasn't been found yet." 

Harry looked away. 

"Look, mate," Ron tried, frowning worriedly. "He's a smart guy. I'm sure he'll get out of whatever pickle he's gotten himself into." 

There was no answer for a long while before Harry finally gave a little nod. The awkwardness didn't dissipate and Hermione found herself wondering if she would ever have her friend back to normal. She studied him, his small frame filled out some since the last she'd seen him, presumably because of better eating, his hair longer and even more messy, his face, so slack and lost and empty… She turned to Ron almost helplessly. The redhead stared back for a bit before grabbing the tray of fresh food from the table and moving to sit down on the bed with the other two, dropping the tray between them. 

"Well, I'm famished, so I'm going to eat." 

He ignored Hermione's playful punch to his arm as he stuffed a piece of garlic bread into his mouth. Hermione only huffed a little and portioned out some of the lasagna. They bantered as usual, one saying something the other felt offence from and mercilessly went after the first. It was almost like old times again. Neither missed that Harry tentatively ate as well, but they didn't mention it. 

"You know, we were really worried about you, mate," said Ron before stuffing another bite of lasagna into his mouth. Harry glanced up at him and waited for him to finish chewing. "Having to stay with Snape and all…" 

Hermione saw Harry's hands tense up on his fork. She tried to give Ron a warning look, but the redhead wasn't looking at her. 

"It must have been horrible! That slimy git's not worth the air, if you ask me-" 

"Ron," she cautioned, but he didn't hear her. 

"And to think Dumbledore left you with him! You should have come to us first, I say. I bet that prat's been ignoring you, hasn't he? Or just insulting you all the time, since he hates yo-" 

"_SHUT UP!_" 

CRASH! The tray and all its contents was sent to the floor. Ron blinked in surprise at the angry, almost wild look on Harry's face, shocked silent by the sound of his yelling voice. A moment later, Harry's eyes snapped just as wide and he slapped his hands over his mouth, jerking back to the corner of the bed, his back fitting against the two walls. His gaze was terrified and his face had paled more shades than was healthy. 

"Harry?" Ron tried, but Hermione grabbed his arm and pulled him off the bed. 

"Go!" she hissed, shoving him towards the door. Ron stumbled and looked at her dumbfounded. Another glance at Harry, who hadn't lost the terrified look and was beginning to hyperventilate, and he quickly left, shutting the door a little too hard behind him. There, he rested his back against the wood, staring down at his feet and wondering what he had done. He was surprised to find how easily he could hear Hermione through the door. 

"It's all right, Harry," she said gently as she knelt on the bed beside the scared boy. She reached out and nearly cried at the way he flinched, his hands holding tighter to his face. Her fingers lightly touches his hair, brushing the locks from his face. "It's okay, no one is going to hurt you, it's okay to talk…" 

He shook his head slowly, but didn't jerk away from her touch. Hermione slowly moved closer to him, keeping every motion clear and slow, as if she were trying to comfort a cornered animal. Gently and oh so slowly, she coaxed Harry into her arms and held him, stroking his hair and back and rocking him. His shoulders shook as if he were trying not to break down, breath hitching with each quick intact of breath. She continued to speak softly and tenderly, trying to calm him with her presence. The shaking subsided after a long while, as did his breathing slow, and he was still in her arms, laying half in her lap and half on the bed, curled around her. Her fingers smoothed through his soft hair and down his cheeks as his arms came to wrap around her. 

"You like Snape a lot, don't you?" she asked quietly. He slowly nodded against her hip. "He was kind to you?" 

Another nod and his arms tightened around her waist. 

"That's good. You deserve a little kindness, even if it's from someone I don't like." She continued to stroke his hair and his hands loosened. "As long as he's good to you, I can forgive his temperament." 

She heard a little sound that might have been a laugh and it warmed her. Still, she had to know, no matter if it hurt him to ask. 

"Why did Dumbledore want to take you from him?" 

As she expected, his body went tense. She could see the muscles of his jaw tightening under the skin. 

"It's all right," she soothed quickly. "You don't have to say anything." 

He relaxed a fraction at this, but not all the way. His fingers curled around the hem of her shirt. She was quiet, waiting, for she knew he had something to say. The words were too quiet for her to make out the first time, but he repeated when she asked. 

"He doesn't hate me," Harry whispered and his voice was tinged with enough desperation that Hermione hoped it was true. Harry didn't deserve any more disappointment. 

"I'm sure he doesn't," she soothed, but they both knew it was empty coming from her. She hadn't been there to see Snape's kindness and gentleness. She was only relying on his opinion. 

"He doesn't," the boy in her arms muttered again, curling closer to her. His face pressed against her stomach, legs shifting to follow the curve of her thigh, as if to become as connected to her as he possibly could. Hermione closed her eyes and bowed her head as she tried so desperately not to cry. 

"He doesn't," she repeated to him, and this time, she was sure. She didn't care if no one else agreed. Hermione trusted Harry, of all people, to know the difference between love and hate, not tricked by an enemy turned kind. Hermione stayed with him until he fell into a restless sleep and only then did she finally cry. 

Ron sat next to the door all night, his cheeks wet but mind resolute to protect and help his best friend the only way he knew how. 

----

"Well, Severus, I'm glad you've brought this to my attention." 

The words, as well as the lack of pain upon his person, was more disconcerting than the strange set of eyes staring back at him. Oh, they were still red, but they actually looked human now. Snape didn't understand what exactly had happened to restore the Dark Lord's eyes, and he didn't think to ask about it. He didn't want to contemplate the other changes to his face. The small, slits that had passed for a nose had filled out to resemble an actual one and there was a less harsh set to his hairless brows. Little else was different, but those alone made the Dark Lord look less intimidating. 

"We will get the boy. First, we must plan.?" 

"Yes, my Lord…" 

"Where do you believe we should search first?" 

Narcissa stood back and watched them, listening to their careful planning. She was looking at the lord more, for the scene between them earlier that day kept running through her mind. 

_"Malfoy!" _

The sound of her name from the Dark Lord, said in such an amazed, almost panicked fashion, blindsided her as she entered his rooms. She found him in front of the tall mirror, hands pressed to the glass. Over his shoulder, she could see his eyes widely taking in the changes to his face. 

"My Lord?" she asked quietly. He turned and stared at her. The snake like eyes were gone, replaced with normal, human ones of the same crimson color. His entire face looked more human. 

"I woke," he said in an awed tone. "I woke and I was this way." 

She came closer to study him, and couldn't help but wonder if the physical changes were caused at all by the radical changes in his attitude. 

"It is decided then." 

The Dark Lord's definitive words brought her back to present. She went to his side as he waved her over and explained what they had decided on. Narcissa nodded at the logic of it, giving her consent. They fine tuned several points before she was released to return to her home. 

"Severus," said the Dark Lord as Snape turned to leave after Narcissa. He paused and looked back at Lord Voldemort, waiting. The red eyed man looked oddly hesitant a moment, then resolute. "Sit down. We must talk." 

An icy feeling formed in Snape's belly, but he didn't dare show it. He sat down on the soft couch across from the other wizard, wondering if he would escape his wrath. Snape had lied to him, after all, and admitted it. The Dark Lord had never been fond of his followers lying. After he sat, Lord Voldemort mimicked him and went quiet, his face hard as if he were trying to decide the best way to handle the conversation he was about to begin. 

"How is he?" he said finally. Snape blinked, but that was the only show of surprise. 

"Unwell, my Lord." 

"Explain." The tone was sharp and Snape knew he would have to be thorough. 

"He is partially mute, my Lord. Volunterily. His throat had been crushed by his muggle caretaker and has since been healed, but he does not speak above a whisper, if at all." 

Voldemort nodded him to continue with the slightest bit of an emotion in his gaze that Snape scarcely thought possible for the man. Grief. 

"His body is healthy now, healed from prolonged beatings." This, Voldemort already knew, but he didn't interrupt his follower. "He is underweight, but that was lessening in the time he's been living with me. His body is weak, prone to fatigue." 

"Emotionally?" 

"His strength is gone. He has lost his will to fight. I think the only reason he is still alive is that he doesn't dare shame his parents' memory by killing himself." 

Snape was surprised when Voldemort closed his eyes as if pained and raised a hand to rub his forehead. His other hand waved for him to continue and after a short pause, Snape did. 

"Nightmares, every other night. Sometimes more frequently." 

"Of me?" 

"Of the muggle, and the deaths of his friends. My death." 

Voldemort looked at him then, his crimson eyes narrowed but not angry, merely scrutinizing. Snape's perfect, blank expression never wavered. 

"He cares for you," Voldemort murmured. Snape gave a snort. 

"No. He is desperate for my approval. I haven't left him yet, nor betrayed him." 

"He cares," retorted the Dark Lord in a tone that meant the battle was over and Snape would never win it. The Potions Master wisely continued his analysis. 

"He is fragile. Unstable. Any number of things can set him into despair at the drop of a wand. It seems that isolating him until he is ready to face his demons is the only way to assure his sanity remains." 

Voldemort nodded and gave a little sigh. All at once, a certain old aura came to him, etching out every line of his pale face, the tired look of his eyes… Snape dropped his gaze. 

"He will not accept me," said Voldemort in a quiet, near whisper. 

"Not quickly." 

"Not at all." 

"We shall see," responded Snape and he was almost more surprised by his own daring than by the lack of painful response from the man sitting across from him. 

----

Remus had been quiet since his telling of Harry's condition to Sirius. The two were inseparable, and Sirius was often found curled up at the foot of Remus' bed in the mornings. The other members of the household ignored this, either out of a sense of propriety or simple disinterest. 

Draco wandered distractedly. He sometimes paused in a hallway and stared into space for many minutes before continuing on his walks. His mother had questioned him, but the boy gave no answer. She had gotten worried enough to ask Sirius to look after him while she was out, and she happened to be out quite a bit with running the various Malfoy enterprises in her husband's absence. He was surprised, but agreed to try to find out what was ailing the boy. 

"I was too…distracted to realize," he told Remus after she'd gone off again. "He really has been acting different." 

"I…" Remus sighed a bit and shook his head. "His scent has been different since…that time." 

Sirius looked confused a moment before it dawned on him. "Do you think he heard?" 

"Yes, but how much?" 

"Hard to say…" Sirius frowned and set his head on his hand. "Must be weird, him suddenly seeing Harry in such a different way." 

"No stranger than seeing Severus that way," Remus said before realizing it. The silence of Sirius brought that quickly to light. The werewolf glanced over at his friend and found the man staring at him. 

"Snape? What does he have to do with anything?" 

Remus bit his bottom lip. "I should have mentioned it before…When Harry was taken from the Dursleys-" 

"_That slimy son of a bitch took him?_" Sirius snarled, jumping from his chair. 

"Calm down, Padfoot!" Remus cried as he rose as well. "Severus was nothing but kind to him!" 

"Why wasn't he with the Weasleys? Or you, even!" 

"Because Harry chose to stay with Severus!" 

Sirius went quiet, staring at him dumbfounded. 

"He what?" 

"And they _meshed_, Padfoot," Remus went on, as if the other man hadn't said anything. "I was amazed to see it and I barely believed it, but they needed each other. Harry was terrified to be away from Severus and Severus worried about nothing other than Harry. For Merlin's sake, Padfoot, he read the boy _nursery rhymes!_" 

Sirius sat down, hard. His brows were tightly bunched between his eyes, a faraway look on his face as he tried to work through this new information, tried to understand and decide what to do. 

"He said at the meeting that Dumbledore hid Harry…" 

"He was protecting him. Severus would never let Harry fall into the Dark Lord's hands." 

"Why did it have to be _Snape_…?" 

"It just was, Padfoot. Actually, it's ironically proper." 

"Proper? How is any of this proper?" 

"Who is the only person in Harry's life that has never treated him any differently, no matter what happened, nor betrayed him or left him by choice or otherwise?" 

Sirius went quiet and he thought. Remus sat back down and waited, knowing that the other man would have something to say eventually. It might take days, but he would decide what to do. Remus would simply wait for that time. 

----

_ He was sure he was losing his mind. He sat in the corner, shadows playing over the entire room like beasts waiting to pounce as he stared out from above his folded arms, knees drawn to his chest. Pain, dull and throbbing, was constant in his stomach, and he always hurt from the backlash of too many curses he didn't remember taking or casting. His once black hair was streaked with silver and fell untended and ignored. It had been a full three weeks since he left the house willingly, yet he'd woken up so many dozens of times and had to return. No article of clothing was left without a spattering of blood or some other substance he didn't dare try to identify. _

He was losing it and briefly wondered why he even bothered anymore. 

Strange items found their way into his home but he could never rid himself of them. They all went into the closet, which he now opened only to stash away the things that made him feel dirty just touching them. Books, so dark that he shook looking at them, potions he didn't even want to know the purpose of, trinkets, baubles, so many little things, and they all made him feel so vile and twisted. 

He often saw shadows pass by the windows. Humans, sometimes nothing nearly so. They terrified him, because he knew somewhere inside that they were just as horrible as the things he hid in the overflowing closet. 

The door creaked open. Sometimes, a wizard or witch would visit. They never stayed long, as his stare made them uncomfortable. All of them but Lucius Malfoy, and he had begun to depend on the high born wizard's presence. Thankfully, the one who entered then was just that man. Lucius's eyes swept around before falling onto the wizard in the corner. Instantly, he came near and knelt before him. 

"Tom," he said, reaching out to touch his hand. His gloves were smooth and soft, black leather of the finest quality. He felt humbled in the presence of the younger man. 

"I woke up in blood again," he whispered. Lucius nodded his understanding. Slowly, Lucius coaxed him out of the corner and made him cleanse himself and dress in fresh robes, the cleanest pair. He murmured that he would replace the wardrobe within the week, and that comforted the older man. Lucius then made him eat as he reported on the goings on in the outside world. He never went out, never listened to the radio, never touched the paper, so Lucius was his only link. The rich wizard had taken over keeping the house paid for and proper, because its owner simply couldn't function anymore. He had asked why once, but the enigmatic answer was no answer at all and he got the feeling that it was simply something not to worry about. 

When he had been tended to, Lucius informed him that he couldn't stay, as he had things he had to do. He walked him to the door, and there Lucius paused and looked at him. 

"It's time to sleep," the younger wizard said. 

He remembered nothing after that, until he came to himself, once again covered in blood and surrounded by maimed bodies. This time, he didn't bother feeling horrified anymore. 

----

A/N: I really liked the Trio interaction in this chapter. Meh to the rest, but I liked that part. I also liked the memory this time around. Tom is fun to write. And I finally got another challange fulfilled! Well, mostly. Okay, so not even mostly, but oh well! We all know it's gonna happen! 

**Acknowledgements:**

**Slayerq** - I've always been a big fan of nursury rhymes and this story just fit them, somehow. I'm glad you like my Voldie/Tom Hopefully, this chapter made you as happy as the rest. As for D/H, well...I know they'll be friends eventually, but I'm not sure if they'll have a romance.  
**TammyLynnSlark** - Yes, Dumbles is an ass.  
**dairygirl** - Well, the chap answers one question. As to Draco, well, he doesn't know what to do yet. He hasn't decided and probably won't until he sees Harry again.  
**yuiop** - Did.  
**DarkMarkLV** - I'll tell you now that there will be **NO LV/HP!** Much as I like that ship, the incest warning is for a background couple.  
**RhionLestrange** - Heee, glad to have intrigued you!  
**DestinyEntwinements** - You made me laugh, then blush. I hope you're happy with yourself.  
**Kari Morgana Black** - They will become friends eventually, but I don't know if there will be any romance between them. So far, the three romances I've planned on don't involve Harry.  
**HoshiHikari** - Starlight...nice name, babe. Glad you've enjoyed the story.  
**animegurl088** - :laughs: Here you go, kiddo.

_Conditions Met:_  
1. Voldemort must be Harry's father  
**2. Severus eventually is loyal to Voldemort (unfinished) **  
3. Sirius comes back 


	13. Three Blind Mice

**Another Life**

**Warnings:** Yaoi/Slash, Angst, DARK themes, Backstabbing, Incest, Yuri/Fem-slash, and other various nastiness. Hard R rating.  
**Disclaimer:** Ain't mine. 

**Chapter 12  
Three Blind Mice**

Azkaban was not a place visited regularly by wizards and witches that weren't locked in. Even the caretakers stayed only as long as they absolutely had to. Most inmates never got visitors, disowned for their crimes or left to rot for being caught. Still, some devoted family members or friends sometimes sought their loved one out and visited to get them a short respite from the pain of the prison. 

Narcissa Malfoy was not visiting her husband because she loved him. 

"Wipe that disgusting dirt from your collar, husband. You embarrass our class." 

Lucius stared at her, his pale eyes rimmed in dark, bruised skin, but he did as she said, going through the motions automatically and without his normal flair. After, he set his elbows upon the table and clasped his hands, chin resting against the thin, almost skeletal fingers. 

"I am not here on business," Narcissa stated primly. "On the contrary, it is quite personal, or has become so." 

Lucius frowned slightly, his pale skin ripping around his mouth. Skin that should have delicate with aristocratic youth but was now wrinkled and coarse. 

"You remember my cousin; Tom?" 

Instantly, awareness lit in his blue eyes. He nodded, not daring to look at the guard who stood at the door. They sat in a visiting chamber, only a short table and two chairs within it. 

"Is he well?" His voice had grown hoarse from screaming and there was no undercurrent of anything at all, which disturbed her the most. 

"As well as can be expected." She watched some of the tension drain from his shoulders, but it didn't leave completely. "Recently, he's been reminiscing about the past…A woman, actually." 

A flicker. Her husband knew. 

"I was wondering if you knew anything about her, husband." Though the guard would never be able to tell, most of their conversation wasn't verbal. Their eyes never left each others'. "He is very distressed about the matter, as others have arisen that were caused by it." 

"She's dead." 

"Yes, I know that, as does he," she said stiffly, narrowing her eyes. "It seems she has left him a puzzle behind." 

"The boy?" 

"You knew?" 

"Of course." Some of the old arrogance entered his expression for just a moment, just a second of his smirk before it was gone again. "I knew it had to be his." 

"How did you know?" 

That same, arrogant glint came again, staying longer this time. 

"Tell me, wife," he said instead. "Has he begun to sleepwalk again?" 

She frowned. "No, but he has taken to thinking about when he used to." 

"I see." He sat back, amused. 

"There is something you're hiding from me, husband." 

"My secrets are my own, wife." 

Her even stare rested on him for a long while before she gave a little smirk that he promptly returned. 

"Time's up," the guard said, ending their interaction. Lucius got up and Narcissa went to him. They embraced and as his head rested upon her shoulder, he whispered into her ear. 

_"James Potter was sterile."_

----

Snape found himself on the floor, his cheek throbbing. He pushed himself up and glared at the towering figure, arm still held out from the punch. 

"Are you finished, Black?" Snape muttered unhappily. "Because there are more important matters to attend to." 

"You sold him out!" Sirius yelled, stooping down to drag Snape back up by the front of his robes, then slamming him up against the stone wall. "You _bastard!_ Harry _trusted_ you!" 

"I'm saving him!" Snape snarled back. 

"Saving him? SAVING HIM! YOU TOLD THE BLOODY DARK LORD WHERE HE WAS!" 

"VOLDEMORT IS NOT THE ENEMY!" 

There was a deafening silence as both stared each other down, Sirius's eyes wide with surprise and Snape's determined. 

"Voldemort isn't who we should be worrying about," Snape growled. "He's predictable. Dumbledore is not." 

"Dumbledore! Don't you try to tell me he-" 

"Yes, Black! That is exactly what is going on! _Dumbledore set that boy up from the day he was born!_" 

Sirius dropped him and stumbled back. "But Dumbledore-" 

"Do you know what that muggle did to him, Black?" 

The animagus visibly flinched back. Snape almost felt victorious. Almost. 

"Have you see how utterly destroyed Harry Potter really is? Have you listened to him scream at night because a dead muggle tries to kill him in his dreams? Did you see the bruises? And not just the bodily ones. Those are gone now. The others may never go away." 

Sirius said nothing. Snape looked away. 

"Look, Black, I hate you," he said clearly. "I've hated you for most of my life, but I acknowledge that I need your help now. Yours and Lupin's. Harry needs your help now." 

"You're a bastard," murmured Sirius quietly without any real malice, "using Harry to get my help." 

"I'm only directing you," replied Snape. "You would have helped him regardless of my plan." 

They looked at one another, solemn faces taking in their resolve. Finally, Sirius cracked. 

"Tell me what to do." 

----

"Are you okay now?" 

Hermione nodded a little, but didn't leave the protective sanctum of Ginny's arms. The red haired girl gently stroked her hair, watching the elder with compassion and sadness. 

"He's going to be okay," she assured her. "Harry always pulls through. He's strong." 

"But is he strong enough?" Hermione whispered against Ginny's shoulder. "I've never seen him like this, Gin… Never this bad…" 

"'Mione," murmured Ginny quietly as she tugged the other girl away to look her in the eye. She felt so much for that heartbroken expression, the wet sheen to those beautiful brown eyes ringed from a sleepless night. Ginny couldn't help herself. She leaned close and brushed their lips together, melting when Hermione responded and held her tighter. 

She rarely allowed this kind of affection where they might be found out. Hermione was terrified of that, but Ginny chalked it up to her muggle upbringing. Muggles were far more obsessive over reproduction and religious doctrine, so same sex couples had a far harder time than in the magical world. Wizards tended to live longer, fuller lives than muggles, so it wasn't so much of a problem for them. Same sex couples were treated as a non-issue. It was not talked about, nor was it demonized. Ginny knew that her mother knew about them, but Molly Weasley had many boys to continue the family line and Bill had already bagged himself a fiancé. Not that Ginny much cared for Fleur, but it did take a little pressure off her to know that she was not expected to carry on her family line. Same sex couples were tolerated as long as the families continued undaunted. And it wasn't as if Ginny had resigned herself to no children anyway. It was simple to be magically inseminated, if she ever decided to have a child of her own. 

The soft, needy kiss was all she got this time, but Ginny knew that when they found a secluded, secure spot, she would have all that Hermione had to offer, because they both needed that reassurance. For now, she was content to hold the older girl to her. Ginny hated to admit it to herself, but she was just as thrown by Harry's state as Hermione and felt just as useless to him. 

Once both of them had been comforted enough to function regularly again, they shared a quick, chaste kiss and went on in their chores around the house. There was to be a meeting there that night, instead of Grimmauld Place, and the house had to be kept, or at least Mrs. Weasley thought so. She was busy making dinner, as she privately believe none of the Order members ate enough, so it was up to the kids to clean up. Ron had already been at it to give the girls time together. He knew of their relationship and protected it as fiercely as he protected his loved ones themselves. When they began to help him, he said nothing but offered a little smile. 

The three teens relentlessly attacked the house, cleaning anything and everything they could find. It was the best sort of distraction for them and they needed a few hours of thinking about something other than Harry. They finished up just as Dinner was ready. Hermione took the tray to Harry, because she was the only one that got him to eat. Therefore, it was Ginny who answered the door. 

"Professor?" she said with a surprised blink at the towering figure of Severus Snape. A second later, she regretted not pulling her wand on him immediately, but considering the stunning spell he casted, she couldn't have been held accountable. Molly Weasley was summoned by the thump of her daughter hitting the ground and fell in the doorway between the entrance hall and kitchen. Ron was stunned near the stairs. 

When Snape opened the door to Harry's room, Hermione was waiting for him. She sat beside Harry on the bed, petting his hair, but her eyes bore into Snape's knowingly. 

"If you hurt him," she said in a quiet, warning voice, "I will kill you." 

Snape said nothing and raised his wand. Hermione didn't resist as she was stunned like the others. Harry was carefully gathered up against his chest, too deep in his exhausted sleep to wake at the movements. Snape carried him down the stairs, one arm hooked under his knees and the other around his shoulders. The weight in his arms comforted Snape some, but only until he exited the front door. Before him stood a dozen Order members. 

"You slimy bastard," Tonks growled, raising her wand, but he knew she wouldn't cast until Harry was safe. "How dare you betray us…" 

"I told you he would," Moody said with an almost satisfied tint to his voice. Snape held Harry tighter to him. He would have to drop the boy to cast, and he couldn't do that. 

"Severus," murmured Dumbledore as he stepped out in front of the others. It was clear then that this had all been planned from the start. "Severus, please, leave the boy with me. You know I'll protect him." 

Snape took a step back, but he knew there was no where else to run. Dumbledore's eyes glinted with satisfaction. 

"I assure you, Severus, whatever has caused this paranoia, we will get to the bottom of it and reverse it." Snape could have laughed. "I can help you, Severus. Please, leave Harry out of your delusions. Don't make him suffer because of you." 

The feeling of Harry in his arms, reassuring him that the boy was alive and well, was almost too much to give up, but he knew he had to. When Shaklebolt came forward to take the boy, Snape was still barely able to let go and allow it. The next thing he knew, he was unconscious, but that was exactly what had to be done. 

Harry awoke slowly. He was not in his room, but laying on the living room couch. The house was loud around him, voices shouting and talking, people moving around, such the like. He sat up slowly and looked around. The living room was empty, but he could see people moving in the kitchen. He got up slowly, having to go still for a few moments as he fought dizziness. Moving towards the kitchen but staying out of immediate view, he leaned against the wall near the door and listened. 

"We can't trust him. He should be locked up immediately!" That was Moody and sent a shiver down Harry's back. 

"Alastor, have a little mercy! He's obviously suffering from stress induced delusions!" Molly Weasley, matron of the house. 

"Stress induced- Are you listening to yourself, woman!" 

"Don't you talk to my wife that way!" 

"Gentleman, please…" 

Harry went cold. The silky, soothing voice of a snake in phoenix' clothing filled his entire body with terror that was so irrational that he wanted to kick himself. His body was paralyzed. 

"We cannot take this action against Harry lightly. Severus has been suffering much stress lately with his undercover activities and having Harry with him seems to have shifted the balance of his sanity… Severus is not trying to betray us. He is simply unable to realize what he is doing." 

Snape? Harry turned his head towards the door. What had Snape done? Where was he? Was he there? 

"Isn't that right, my boy?" 

Harry waited, his heart hammering so hard that he knew it would simply burst, and then he heard that familiar voice, soft and dark and so much more comforting that his lullaby. 

"I do find myself…becoming erratic, Albus…" He hated hearing his - guardian? Friend? No, not quite that…- teacher sounding so confused and weak. "I do not truly know why I came here, except what you have told me.." 

"He's a bloody spy," Moody growled. "He could be lying." 

He couldn't take it anymore. Harry stepped into the doorway, ignoring Mrs. Weasley's sudden gasp at his appearance, and strode purposefully to the other end of the room where Snape sat, magically bound to a chair. Tonks grabbed Harry's arm, stopping him, but when the boy turned a hate filled glare to her face, she let go in surprise. He heard some of the others speak, but ignored them and only paused when he was standing before the Potions Master. 

"Harry," Dumbledore said kindly, his voice breaking through like the others couldn't. Harry glanced back at him. "Harry, I know this must be strange for you, but-" 

"Stop talking," murmured Harry quietly. Those who had not watched the distant, silent boy suffer in his bed were shocked by his blatant disrespect. Those that had were more surprised that he had spoken at all. Harry looked back to Snape, stared at him for a long few moments, and then threw his arms around the , crumpling down to his knees. He ignored the others around him, crushing his face to the front of Snape's robes, allowing the familiar scent to comfort him in a way nothing else had been able to. He could feel Snape straining against his magical restraints, wanting to hold him as he did after the nightmares, and felt a great deal of hate for the ones that put his precious person in such a position. 

"My left pocket," Snape whispered quietly enough that Harry knew no one could hear him. The green eyed boy slowly reached for the told pocket, masking his movements as well as he could for it was obvious that this had to be a secret, and extracted a small, flat stone. He palmed it and pulled away from Snape, standing again. The older man looked up at him. 

"Are you treated well?" he asked. Harry nodded. Snape closed his eyes. "Good. Go back to your room now. I may be dangerous to you." 

Harry didn't believe it for a moment, but he still nodded and left the kitchen as quietly as he'd come in. As soon as he was gone, the Order went into an uproar. Harry ignored them and sped to his room, shutting the door and locking it. There, he sat back on his bed and looked at the blood red stone. It was very pretty now that he looked at it, but he didn't have any idea why Snape had needed him to have it. 

When Hermione and Ron came up to bring him dinner, none of them spoke of the attack on the house. They ate, babbling about what school would be like when they got in that year and how the quidditch team would do. Hermione lingered after to kiss Harry's cheek. 

"Don't worry about Professor Snape," she told him softly. "I'm sure things will turn out well." 

Harry offered her a very small, barely there smile, but it was enough for her. She left him and he fell asleep with the stone held tight in his small hand. 

The next morning, Ginny Weasley gave the alarm. Harry was gone. 

----

_ "You sold the house." _

He froze, hearing a voice he hadn't in nearly a year. He didn't turn around because he was sure this was another delusion, coming to haunt him. It had been a month since his last episode, two weeks after abandoning his old house in favor of a more decedent, house elf kept home Lucius had insisted on buying him. 

"What are you doing here?" 

"Am I not welcome?" 

He turned, staring at her over his shoulder. She'd only grown lovelier in the time they'd been apart. Standing in the snow, her robes and hair fluttering in the wind, she resembled a goddess more than any mortal woman. 

"Lillian…" 

"Thomas, I'm sorry," she whispered, tears filling her eyes. "I can't explain it to you, but I…I…" 

He found himself going to her, as if drawn by a siren. She felt just as wonderful in his arms as she ever had, her head pressed to his shoulder as his fingers tangled in her hair, the other pressed to the small of her back. 

"You're a married woman," he said quietly and she pulled back to look at his face. 

"I know that," she replied in a whisper. He searched her gaze, trying to find some reason to the madness they had been plunged into. "I'm so sorry…" 

"Does he know you've come?" 

"No. He's gone on a mission for Albus." 

"Why have you come?" 

She was quiet, but it seemed as if she were trying so very hard to say something, anything, to stay in his arms. Tears sprang and raced down her cheeks and he gently wiped them away. 

"I hat to see you," she said at last. "I still….Thomas, I love you." 

"Coming from a woman who left nine months ago to marry another man." 

It was harsh, sharp, but he couldn't help his bitterness. She bit her lip and lowered her head, eyes shut tight. 

"I wish I could explain, but I can't…" 

"Is it so hard?" He let go of her, stepping away. "He's younger, stronger, more handsome… He is becoming powerful and famous. What else could you want, Lillian?" 

"It isn't like that, Thomas! Please!" 

"Then what is it like, Lillian?" he yelled out, too conflicted to stay calm. "Why, after nine months, have you decided to come back? Because you love me? A fine way to show it!" 

"Please," she whispered, staring at him with those green eyes he'd never been able to deny. His anger fled, leaving him feeling hollow and dead inside. 

"What do you want from me?" he said so quietly that the wind nearly hid it. "I beg of you, what?" 

"I…I want…to be with you." 

"What about your husband?" 

"I can't leave him, Thomas. I don't love him, but…I can't explain. I'm sorry…" 

He stared at her, wondering if he could bare to turn her away. She loved him still…and…He found he didn't care if she had married someone else. He still loved her. 

----

A/N: Whelp, Harry's gone again. I wonder where to this time... And for those worried about a Harry/Hermione pairing, hope this puts those fears to rest. :laughs: I think the idea of H/Hr is cute, but would never work. 

Okay, bitchy moment. You reviewers know I love ya, right? So...Can we stop with the "good story, update soon" reviews? Tell me WHY you like it! What's good? What's bad? What do you think will happen next? Be confident that I'll update without the reminder, okay? Please? 

**Acknowledgements:**

**kirallie** - Maybe he went mad. Maybe not. Gotta keep with it to figure THAT one out. :smile: Yeah, the Golden Trio is a little cracked, but they're still on each others' sides.  
**DestinyEntwinements** - Hope this chapter put your fear to rest. As for who he's gonna be with, I still dunno. I'm waiting for the story to tell me...mmm...cookies...  
**Slayerq** - I'm considering D/H as a couple and I do like them (I also have a liking for R/H, too!) And yeah, Hermione is just too close to Harry to be a love interest. Glad you're enjoying so far!  
**animegurl008** - Updated.  
**Asaake** - Updated.  
**HoshiHikari** - Snape and Harry aren't quite reunited, but you can bet they will be eventually.  
**jillypooh** - Your name makes me giggle. As for the review...You made me blush. Seriously.  
**Caed** - Yes. Dumbledore so needs to get kicked.  
**sydneydallas** - How Tom got to be Lord Voldemort...Well...We're getting closer to that answer with every chapter. As to the concept, I, like you, had only seen him as becoming evil as a young man and wanted to try something different...

_Conditions Met:_  
1. Voldemort must be Harry's father  
**2. Severus eventually is loyal to Voldemort (unfinished) **  
3. Sirius comes back 


	14. Ring Around The Rosie

**Another Life**

**Warnings:** Yaoi/Slash, Angst, DARK themes, Backstabbing, Incest, Yuri/Fem-slash, and other various nastiness. Hard R rating.  
**Disclaimer:** Ain't mine.

**Chapter 13  
Ring Around The Rosie**

"_It isn't far to Hushabye Mountain…and your boat waits down by the key…The winds of night so softly are sighing.. Soon, they will fly your troubles to sea…"_

Harry slowly began to wake at the sounds of the lullaby. Fingers were brushing through his shaggy hair, soft and loving. He wondered if he were still dreaming of a time when his mother had been alive and held him in her arms, singing to her darling baby boy, then realized that it was a male singing. The gentle voice filling his ears was familiar, a soft baritone with just the slightest hint of scratchiness of a hard life. Harry strained to recognize the man.

"_So close your eyes on Hushabye Mountain…Wave good-bye to cares of the day…And watch your boat from Hushabye Mountain.. sail far away.. from lullaby.. bay…"_

At last, the teen was able to open his eyes, staring up at the familiar face of Remus Lupin. It was still night time but the moonlight gave him just enough light to make out the man's face.

"Hello, Harry," he said softly, as if it would break some spell to speak at normal level. Harry slowly sat up, staring at him. He reached over, touching the werewolf's face to make sure he was real and alive, before throwing his arms around him. Remus held him close, rubbing his back and saying soothing things to him. "It's all right now, Harry…It's okay. You're safe now.."

Harry only held on tighter because for a week, he had thought the man might be gone forever. He felt a sob form in his throat and tried to keep it down, shivering from the effort. Remus never let him go as he shook in his arms. The wolf was Harry's last link to his parents, his last, steady anchor, his friend of few, a protector that would never abandon him.

"Remus," Harry whispered fiercely, pulling his face from the man's shoulder to look at him. "_Don't leave me._"

'Again' was unsaid, but they both knew it was underlying. Remus felt a stab of shame for having run out of Snape's home that night…and that just brought back the sensitive issue of Harry's parentage. He would love the boy no matter who his father was, because that wouldn't change who Harry was, and that was the most important thing.

"I won't," Remus told him, squeezing his shoulders. "Never."

He didn't notice Sirius standing in the doorway until it was too late. Harry went very still, his green eyes going wide as he stared over Remus's shoulder. Slowly, the wolf looked back and mentally cursed his friend for his bad timing.

"Harry," Sirius called, his face and voice as lost as the boy that stared at him. Remus carefully climbed off the bed.

"Sirius, this isn't a good time-"

"You see him." The whispered words were enough to cut Remus off in mid thought, nearly causing him to bite his own tongue. He looked back at Harry, who was now staring at him as his face paled of color.

"Yes, Harry. I see him. He's really here."

"No he's not," the boy said. Then, he cracked a grin but it was in no way a good one. "Which means you're not. Which means you really are dead. Am I dead?"

Shocked as he was by hearing Harry actually speaking, not just whispering or motioning, and then by the boy's very words, Remus said nothing, but Sirius quickly spoke up, "No! You're not dead and neither are we!"

A sick, bitter chuckle fell from Harry's mouth as he ducked his head. Sirius and Remus moved towards the bed, but stopped when the boy's head came up abruptly and he let out a loud, horrible laugh. They were struck dumb, watching the sound pour painfully from Harry's small body, watching as tears began to stream down his cheeks.

"-Oh god -ha hahaha-I'm dead -hee hee-dead as a doornail-haha hahaha-must be in hell-"

At last, Sirius couldn't take it anymore. He climbed up onto the bed and grabbed Harry, dragging the boy against him as he nearly crushed him in his arms. Harry choked through laughter and bitter sobs, laying limply in his godfather's arms, head dropped back and eyes staring at the ceiling as he shook. Remus got up behind him and hugged him as well, encircling the boy in their warmth.

Harry's laughter and tears died off as he fell back into sleep between them a while later. Sirius carefully laid him down and then laid beside him, stroking his godson's face and hair, his own cheeks wet. Remus did the same on Harry's other side. They spent the rest of the night that way.

Both swore they would follow the boy to hell if they had to in order to protect him.

----

"Severus, you are helping no one but the Dark Lord himself by keeping Harry's location to yourself."

Dark eyes stared back into blue without a word, but Dumbledore knew the younger man was brimming with self satisfaction.

"Please, Severus. Think of Harry."

"I am," retorted Severus Snape quietly.

"He could be captured at any moment without protection…" He paused as he noted amusement enter the other man's eyes. "Who is he with?"

Nothing. Silence reigned. Dumbledore sighed softly.

"I'm sorry that it has come to this," said the Headmaster quietly as he pulled a phial of pale liquid from his robes, "but you leave me no choice."

The Veritaserum was then administered and he waited for it to settle.

"What is your full name?"

"Severus Rodian Snape." The voice wasn't sluggish, though his black eyes were barely open and stared down at his own feet.

"What is your occupation?"

There was a slight pause before, "Potions Master, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Double agent."

Dumbledore watched him, studying the drugged man quietly. He would wait until later before going down that road.

"Where is Harry Potter?"

"I don't know." He studied Snape quietly, but there was no sign of rejection from the serum.

"Where did the portkey send him?"

"I don't know."

"Who created the portkey?"

"Remus Lupin."

Dumbledore blinked a little. Remus was alive then, and apparently not in his pocket anymore. This annoyed him but he would work around it. Harry had to be returned to him.

"Where will Remus take Harry?"

"I don't know."

"Why not?"

"I told him not to tell me."

'He expected to be captured and questioned,' Dumbledore thought with a frown. This did not bode well, but he expected no less from his spy. The aged wizard sat back as he thought to himself, watching the veritaserum slowly wear off the younger man. Suddenly, a slow smile spread over his lips.

He knew exactly how to gain Harry back.

----

"How is he?" Narcissa asked quietly from the doorway. Remus got up and took her arm gently, leading her back into the hall as he closed the door behind them.

"It's worse than I thought," he told her softly. "He's close to breaking completely."

"But your presence and Sirius's must be of some help…"

"No. That only makes him more certain that he's died and gone to Hell." He sighed, running a hand through his hair tiredly. "No matter what we say, he won't believe us."

"We have to get Severus back." He glanced up at her, but Narcissa was looking off, thinking as she delicately held her chin. "The boy has been with Severus for the last few weeks. Surely he can get through to him…"

"Maybe, but how? He gave himself up to Dumbledore to get Harry to us."

"You leave that to me." She smiled. "Go back and tend to him as best you can. I'll take care of Severus."

Before he could respond, the blonde woman left. Remus sighed a bit and went on back inside. He looked at the figure on the bed, Harry fitfully sleeping, enveloping in the sheets. Sirius had gone for a little while, unable to stand the sight of Harry's distress. Remus hated the pain his two precious people were going through, but he didn't know if he'd ever be able to help be.

He yawned. It had been at least two days since he got sleep, between planning the escape, creating the portkey for Severus, and gathering Harry after. He fought to keep his eyes open, to stay on watch while Sirius was away, but sleep claimed him rather quickly.

Soon after Remus had fallen asleep, the door cracked open. The pale form of Draco Malfoy entered, quiet as a mouse, and shut the door behind him. He stepped slowly to the bed, staring at the boy sleeping within it. Harry was so very small in the big bed, vulnerable and weak. Draco reached out before he could stop himself and touched the boy's pale cheek. It was cold and a little rough under his fingers. Black prickles needed to be shaved down. Draco had never thought to see that on Harry Potter's baby face. It was one of the many things that made him realize with a jolt that Harry Potter was just as old and young as himself, just as human as himself, just as… He let his thoughts fade away and instead looked down at the hero of the magical world.

"I don't envy you," he said quietly. There was no response, but he didn't expect any. On their own volition, his fingers traced over Harry's cheeks, his forehead, his eyes, nose, mouth. Things were always so much more real when one touched them. From his face, they moved through his shaggy hair, so much softer than it had any right to be… Draco was enthralled by the feel. As he gazed at the sleeping face, he wondered how something so dead inside could make him feel so much.

He hated Potter, that was true. He hated the idiot Gryffindor who got all the attention, all the praise, all the glory, who had spurned his friendship, dared to think he was better, who hated him right back…His hands slid around the pale, slender throat. Harry's pulse thrummed into him, soft and unhurried. Draco wanted to _hurt_ him. His fingers tightened around the unprotected flesh. Harry's lips parted as he drew in a raspy breath, eyelashes fluttering in the warning of waking. Draco watched in morbid fascination as those emerald eyes opened and seemed so black in the darkness, staring up at him as he slowly but surely took his life. Harry didn't fight him, didn't try to knock him off or pry his hands away, and his face was so pitiable…

Draco let go and watched as Harry gasped in a breath and then a few more, finally reaching up to rub his throat. It was quiet, except for his ragged breathing and that disturbed Draco more than the almost-murder.

"Why…did you stop…?"

"I don't know," he answered truthfully. Harry looked at him with those big, young, broken eyes as he slowly sat up. They were the same size, mostly, he and Draco, so when both were sitting, they were eye to eye. This didn't make Draco feel any more comfortable.

"I wouldn't blame you," Harry said. "Not that it matters. When did you die?"

"…I'm not sure I've ever been alive," responded Draco with a soft sigh. He looked down at his hands. "I almost killed you."

"I'm dead already. Do you regret it?"

"It was so easy."

"Yes."

"You're weak. It would have snapped if I pushed a little more."

"Yes."

"I hate you."

"Yes."

Gray eyes lifted and took Harry in again. Without another word, Draco got up and left. Harry laid back down and turned onto his side, glancing towards the chair next to the bed.

"Don't tell Sirius," he said quietly.

"I won't," responded the shaky voice of Remus Lupin.

----

Narcissa was surprised to find the Dark Lord in her library, precisely where she had headed to find some way to go about her plan. He had a book in his hand, but he wasn't reading it. He simply stood there, staring off into the distance.

"My Lord?" she prompted quietly, trying not to startle him. He turned and looked at her, those slowly darkening red eyes confused for a moment before clearing.

"Malfoy," he greeted. He glanced down at the book, then put it away. "I gather that my son is not well?"

"No, my Lord." She paused, wondering how to go about telling him, before deciding that bluntness may be the only way. "He believes he's dead."

"Dead?"

"Yes. And in Hell."

"Hell." Voldemort frowned at her but she knew it was not herself that his discomfort was directed to. "He is that damaged?"

"I believe the only way he will trust that Sirius Black is alive as well as himself is to bring Severus."

Voldemort thought about this.

"My Lord, he may be the only one who can get through to the boy…" She paused when he waved a dismissive hand.

"I understand," he said. "Severus must be retrieved in any case. He is loyal and I will repay that loyalty."

She didn't dispute that. After Severus' full confession, he had sworn loyalty not to Voldemort himself, but to the Riddle Heir, Harry Potter. Both she and Lord Voldemort knew that that was a far stronger promise than either would ever find again. The moment Severus saved the boy from his relatives was the moment he had become the boy's guardian from then on. It made Narcissa a little worried, however. Apparently, there were three men who now claimed that title. How they worked this out between one another would be quite a show…

Before anything more could be said, the door to the library was thrown open and a black roped figure stumbled in.

"Mistress!" he gasped, throwing the hood back to reveal a head of brown curls and a flushed face. "Mistress! Severus Snape is to be executed on three days!"

----

_A sudden thrust into warmth. He gasped and clung to it, eyes wide as he tried frantically to figure out how he'd gotten outside. It didn't really matter, not when Lillian held him so close and she was so warm. He felt like ice. He couldn't feel his fingers, his hands, it was all numb but she was so very warm… _

"_Leave, Malfoy." Her voice sounded far away, but he vaguely noticed the anger behind her words, the bitterness and mistrust and pure, unadulterated hate… And then he was being led inside. She set him in his chair by the fire, which was so hot that he felt like he was burning, but he would take that burning, if only he could feel his hands again… _

"_Drink," she murmured softly, pressing a glass to his lips, and he did so. The liquid burned down his throat, warmth spreading to his stomach and beyond. She carefully undressed him, stripping the mud and snow and blood covered cloth from his body. He didn't care to know what she would do with it. _

_And then she was hugging him, her face hidden against his neck, her breath hitting his skin in quick, irregular puffs. _

"_Thank Merlin I was here tonight," he heard her whisper to herself and by the hitches and the slight wetness hitting his skin, he knew she was crying. He hugged her tightly and tried to return the comforts she was giving him. _

"_Sleep walking," he murmured to her consolingly, his voice rough and sounding oddly like a hiss. "I was sleep walking… Lucius must have found me…" _

"_No, no…" she sobbed. _

"_Yes," he responded. "Yes, he must have found me." _

_Her hands slid into his hair as she pulled back to look at him. The wet trails down her grief flushed cheeks and her wet eyes disturbed him so much… He hastened to wipe the tears away but more fell anew. _

"_Oh Merlin, please don't cry," he begged her, but it only made it worse. _

"_Can't you see what's happening to you?" she sobbed. "What he's doing to you?" _

"_Who? Lillian, please!" _

"_Malfoy! Lucius Malfoy!" yelled the hysterical woman. "He's killing you, Thomas! He's killing you one piece at a time and you can't see it, can you? How many nights a week do you 'sleepwalk'!" _

_He simply stared at her. It had been getting better after she came back. The blackouts were less frequent, the amount of strange things finding there way there was lessening, his nightmares were beginning to go away…and then it began getting bad again. He felt suddenly sobered to that realization. _

"_You should go," he said and her tears increased. He brought her close, kissed her as tenderly as he ever could. He hated that he had upset her, hated how useless he was to her, how useless he was to stop the cause of their combined pain. "You should go." _

"_Thomas-" _

"_Your husband will miss you." _

_That always worked. Lillian stayed only a little longer and then left, the guilt and worry heavy in her green eyes. _

_That night, he dreamed of doing horrible things. He resolved, when he had awaken, to contact Dumbledore and end the insanity that had fully engulfed his life. _

----

A/N: I am so sorry it took so long! I don't know what was wrong with me but I had a really hard time getting through this chapter... Sorry!

I went ahead and added the fourth condition, since it's pretty much a given by now...

**Acknowledgements:**

**Shell** - It'll get better eventually, but be ready for lots of angst in the mean time.  
**Lady Azar de Tameran** - I'm still not sure if Harry will have a relationship with anyone like that. Sev/Harry is definately out, as they are far more like father and son. As for Tom...well, we're getting closer to finding that out.  
**as** - Yes, Snape is loyal (mostly) to Tom.  
**Jillypooh** - I like Hermione sometimes but she also annoys the hell out of me a lot too.  
**DestinyEntwinements** - Oh, I know what you mean! Anytime I lose my comp for a while I'm just inconsolible.  
**oracale** - Thanks  
**Sh'arra Rie** - Glad you like it  
**Jimmy** - Personally, I love "I AM your father" fics. I dunno why. I'm glad you plan to read more of this despite that theme. At least I've confused the issue, what with Harry have not one but THREE father figures...:snerk:  
**ShadowsofNyx** - Lol! I don't know how long it'll take to finish.  
**Jadein** - Lily's situation is something far more complicated than an imperius charm. Glad you liked my way of handling Dumbledore. As for the rest, only time will tell.  
**Editor Crawl** - Good! You're suppose to be surprised at every turn! And yeah, it is just the beginning.  
**japanese-jew** - Thanks muchly!  
**Barranca** - You'll see what Dumbledore knows. Tom? MPD? Sort of. And 'Tom' does not actively oppose anyone. :smile:  
**Strife** - Oh wow. I went so incredibly bright red when I read your review. Thank you so much! I can't say much, but I can say that you're hitting close to a few things.

_Conditions Met:_  
1. Voldemort must be Harry's father  
**2. Severus eventually is loyal to Voldemort (unfinished) **  
3. Sirius comes back  
4. Black and Lupin side with Harry


	15. Jack and Jill

**Another Life**

**Warnings:** Yaoi/Slash, Angst, DARK themes, Backstabbing, Incest, Yuri/Fem-slash, and other various nastiness. Hard R rating.  
**Disclaimer:** Ain't mine.

**Chapter 14  
Jack and Jill**

"Poor bastard."

"What? This guy's a murderer!"

"Still, to be ratted out by someone you trusted…"

"Dumbledore was doing his duty to turn him in, you dullard. After all, he did kidnap Harry Potter."

"Yeah…The poor bastard…"

"Everyone is 'that poor bastard' to you, aren't they?"

Severus Snape ignored the banter of the guards outside his cell. He laid on his cot, staring up at the featureless ceiling. The day before, he had stood trial, expedited by Dumbledore's request. The verdict had taken a total of two minute to decide. Death by hanging. Odd, that, Snape thought. Hanging seemed such an old fashioned, muggle way to die. Dumbledore had been livid at the choice, but the court would not be swayed to a quicker, more full proof way. They wanted to watch him suffocate to death., to suffer for his crimes. They were out for blood and couldn't settle for anything less barbaric.

Odd, that, when wizards boasted to be so much better than the backward, idiotic muggles.

He didn't mind too much, really. Severus was fine with dying. Harry was safe in Lupin and Black's hands and that was what really mattered.

As he lay, Severus heard an odd sound. A slight hiss, nearly soundless. He sat up and glanced around with a frown. The cell was small enough that a search revealed the oddity quickly. The right back corner, eyes stared back at him.

"Nagini," he murmured. The large snake slid out from her hole, folding up near it comfortably as she hissed her soft greeting. Around her tail, parchment had been tied. Glancing to the barred doorway to make sure the guards were quite happy ignoring him, Severus got up from the cot and knelt down beside the huge snake. She was infinitely patient with him as he untied the note. A hiss of good bye was all she gave before slipping right back out, though she gave the air of one very pleased with herself.

Sitting back down, Severus unfolded the note and read. It made him smile.

----

Most of the household was awakened by a loud werewolf running down the halls and yelling for his ward. By the time Sirius got to him, Remus had worked himself into a full scale panic. It took a good while for him to calm enough to even tell Sirius that when he'd awakened, Harry hadn't been there. Together, they tracked down every house elf in the manor and sent them on the search as they did so themselves.

Harry, of course, was completely oblivious to the horror he'd caused his caretakers.

The leaves were soft under his fingertips, like cloth, so alive that he almost wondered if he really was still alive. Maybe it was a kind of Limbo and that's why when he went into the woods, he came right back to the house every time, no matter what direction he tried. Yes. That sounded all right. It couldn't be Hell, since that was all fire and brimstone. He was sure of that one. His uncle had told him enough times about Hell.

He knelt down next to the bush, still running his fingers over the soft leaves. Too soft, he was sure of it. Yes, this was Limbo but he didn't even want to guess at why Limbo was Malfoy Manor. He felt a little sad about the whole thing, actually. Remus and Sirius were stuck in Limbo with him, unable to pass on. Narcissa and Draco Malfoy as well. Maybe they were the keepers of Limbo and that's why it was their house…

A hand touched his shoulder. Harry startled a bit and looked back. Well. Think of the devil.

"Those mutts are back in the house, screaming for you," Draco said quietly. Harry turned back to the bush. The leaf he had been touching had a small insect on it now.

"You should go back in so that they shut up."

The insect had wings twice the length of its body.

"Is this some kind of punishment? What did they do to deserve it?"

Six legs. Long and segmented.

"Potter?"

Big, segmented eyes, but one was damaged. He stared at that and wondered vaguely what it would feel like to have one of his eyes damaged. Maybe it would hurt.

His shoulder was grabbed again as Draco jerked him around. Harry stared at him and he knelt down, putting them at eye level. His silver eyes were raging with feeling, but Harry didn't understand what they were trying to say. He didn't know if he actually wanted to.

"Go inside, Potter. _Now_."

And Harry, for some reason, found himself getting up, brushing the dirt off his pants, and following the other boy back into the manor. A house elf came upon them in the entrance hall and gave a squeak as it announced their presence to the rest of the house.

Remus and Sirius ran there as fast as they could. They grabbed Harry up and hugged him and yelled at him for wandering off and told him not to do it again. Harry didn't say anything. They raged a little more then hugged him all over again, and at some level he did understand that he'd worried them. When he tried to explain that he could never actually leave the property, as it was Limbo, they got upset and told him over and over that he wasn't dead, he wasn't in Hell or Limbo, and he said nothing about that either because he didn't think he'd ever convince them. Maybe that was why they were still there and not in Heaven. He knew that's where they belonged.

When they finished, they started to shuffle him back to the bedroom to rest, but Harry stayed were he was quite stubbornly.

"I want to play chess," he said. Sirius just stared at him and Remus had a funny look on his face, but they agreed and the three went to the library where there was a set. Draco trailed behind with his hands in his pockets. Harry wondered what was in those pockets. A wand? Some galleons? Maybe a few spare scraps of parchment…

He found himself sitting at the chessboard, half way through the game, but he didn't remember playing it. Remus was losing badly. He idly thought about the placement of the pieces. The structure was familiar. Ron showed him this trick. He saw the moves clearly in his mind. Three more, and the game was his. He made the first. Remus, predictably, took the pawn with his bishop. Harry watched the pawn get bashed to pieces with a vague pity for it. Then he made the final move.

"Checkmate," Remus murmured, then he smiled and told him what a good game it had been. Harry said nothing. The game hadn't been good. Remus was a lousy player.

"I'm next," said Draco as he took Remus's seat. Harry stared at him a moment, then rearranged the pieces. They played. Draco won.

So they played again.

----

He slid his hand over his scalp, standing so close to the old mirror that his nose nearly pressed against it. How had this happened? How!

The soft prickling of new hair growth made his fingertips tingle. It was black, except just above his ears where it showed aged gray. Still very short, as if a week after being shaved clean, but that it was there at all was a mystery. Like his eyes, it seemed other parts of his anatomy was slowly becoming human again, his younger self. He wondered if he should shave the growth off, as the slight prickling was a little annoying, then decided he wouldn't mind having hair again. It was growing at a fast pace anyway, so it wouldn't stay annoying.

He ran his fingers slowly shifted to run down his pale cheeks. They were filling out some, though the sharp cheekbones seemed permanent. He'd had them before, so he wasn't worried. His chin had softened from the sharp point, jaw strong and square. His nose was back to how it had been, mostly, but there was still a sharpness. So many little changes. He was almost staring at Tom Riddle, Jr. again.

"My Lord?"

Voldemort turned and glanced towards the door as Narcissa Malfoy stepped in.

"Nagini has returned and she seems in high spirits," she reported, gray eyes flickering towards his head. He ignored that and turned back to the mirror.

"Thank you," he said quietly. She didn't leave. Instead, she moved closer until she stood just to his side.

"You've changed again."

"I am changing," he corrected.

"Yes, of course," she murmured quietly. As her eyes moved over his restoring face, she couldn't help but smile a little. "Do you like the changes, my Lord?"

"Some." He touched his mouth, where the thin line it had been was slowly filling out to lips again. "They…intrigue me."

"How so?"

"It's like seeing my life backwards…"

She tilted her head just slightly, those intelligent gray eyes slowly taking stock of his face. "Yes, I can see a little of that myself…"

He nodded and turned towards her.

"Fetch the boy. We have to speak."

----

Hermione knew it was wrong. Beside her, Ron and Ginny did as well. The news of Severus Snape's looming execution bothered them all. It was so very wrong and it filled them to their core with dread. The entire situation was corrupt and just…wrong.

The house was quiet. They sat on the bed Harry had slept in, simply being together. It comforted them to know that they weren't alone. The adults went in and out of the house, making preparations for the execution. They had been amazed by the speed in his trial, how quickly his death had been ordered, but he had kidnapped Harry Potter.

They wondered if that was such a horrible thing.

"We have to find him," Hermione said at last. Ginny and Ron nodded.

"How?" the boy asked. His sister tapped her chin.

"Remus. If my hunch is right, Snape sent him to someone who'd protect him. Who better than Remus?"

"But how do we find him?" Hermione folded her arms, frowning. "The Order's been looking for him since he disappeared and haven't found any sign."

"I don't know," Ginny admitted, "but he's the only one I think Snape would have sent Harry to. They don't much like each other, but Remus would never hurt Harry."

"You're so sure Snape wouldn't?" Ron asked. The girls immediately glared at him.

"I'm sure," Ginny said vehemently.

"Completely," Hermione seconded.

Ron backed off, scratching the back of his head. "Fine, fine… So, let's figure out how to find him."

----

Nervous did not describe the way Voldemort felt when the boy walked into the dining room. He sat at the head of the table, hands clasped and head set on them. The boy stared at him with no fear, no hate, nothing at all. Voldemort let his eyes trail over his face with morbid fascination.

Her eyes were never so dull, but the color was perfect. His face was hers, those small, delicate features. They were maturing, however. Harry was sixteen years old and his body was shifting to adulthood. The delicateness of his face would harden within the next few years and Voldemort wondered if he would come to look like himself. Harry's body was thin and fragile but his shoulders broadening and with a steady diet, he would fill out.

"Hello, Harry."

The boy stared at him in silence.

"Sit down," Voldemort murmured. Harry didn't move. He sighed a bit. "This does not have to be unpleasant-"

"Are you the Grim Reaper or the Devil?"

Voldemort blinked at the bold, uncaring words. Harry's eyes didn't waver from their stare.

"Neither," Voldemort answered finally.

"Then someone killed you." Harry sat down, glancing idly at the full plate in front of him. "Why are you here? You should be in Hell."

Voldemort felt angered by his words, but staved it off. "I am not dead."

"Denial." He would almost be proud of the boy's gall but was a bit too annoyed to be.

"Potter, I'm not dead and neither are you. Cease this idiocy immediately."

Dull, broken green eyes simply stared at him. He didn't know if what he'd said had actually penetrated the boy's mind and wasn't very hopeful about it either. Harry was too far gone for his enemy to rile him. Instead of answering, he simply looked about the table to the fine food laid out. Voldemort doubted he would eat. Even Remus could barely get anything down the child's throat. Surprisingly enough, it was Draco that Harry listened to. One word from the blond boy and that was that. Harry did it without question.

Voldemort sighed a little and started to eat, letting the boy do what he wished for a while. Sometimes, the simply act of chewing allowed him to think better but this was not one of those times. Harry Potter had a way of keeping him from any sane thought. He was caught between the urges to hug the child and scream at him.

More tries at conversation didn't work. Harry ignored him for the most part, busying himself with shoving food across his plate or making sculptures with it. That might have amused the Dark Lord if it weren't for the fact that Harry's face held absolutely nothing in it. A blank slate, Snape had called it.

"Can I go now?"

Voldemort blinked at the dull green eyes focusing now on him. He nodded, idly waving a hand. The meeting had done absolutely nothing for either of them and continuing it would be an exercise in futility.

And then suddenly Harry was in his lap, one hand curled around his robes and the other shoving a fork at his jugular. Voldemort reacted before he could think. Harry flew back across the room with a flash of light and slammed into his chair. The fragile body crumpled. Breathing a bit fast, Voldemort slowly got up and stared at him.

The fire wasn't completely gone. That gave him hope. Some, anyway. Perhaps they could retrieve what the boy had hidden away so desperately.

After checking him for injuries (thankfully, there were none,) Voldemort called Lupin to take Harry back to his room. The wolf was notably distressed at Harry's state of unconsciousness, but after Voldemort explained what had happened, the distress waned into surprise. Both stared at the boy's sleeping face with wonder and hope.

If Harry could rally enough of himself to try to finish his life's mission, there was definitely hope. Or, at least, they wanted badly to think so.

----

_After seven months apart, he decided something had happened. Sometimes she did this, stayed away from him as if proving to herself that she could, but it had never been so long. He would wait for her, of course. Forever, if need be. He loved her with an obsessive passion that was almost wrong. No, it was definitely wrong, but he didn't care. But what if she needed him now, without wait, but simply couldn't get to him? _

_Godric's Hollow was cheery even in the dark. It took some doing to stay out of sight and mind of those still roaming the streets. It seemed the little town was in celebration, but he didn't care to know for what. Drunkards were drunkards, no matter the reason. _

_Her house still had the lights on. He could see the large shape of James Potter, pacing in what he guessed was a study. His arms shot out at intervals and it occurred to him that the younger man was practicing something, probably a speech. He idly wondered why James Potter would have need of that. _

_In one of the back windows, the curtains were open and he saw the woman he sought. She sat in a rocking chair, slowly rocking back and forth, back and forth, as she spoke so softly in loving tones. He got as close as he dared and it occurred to him that the room looked very much like a nursery. _

_She stood and turned towards the beautiful little crib and he stopped breathing. _

_At first, it looked like only a bundle of cloth but then it **moved**. He almost heard the tiny, little gurgle of life and watched a tiny, little arm reach out aimlessly for a moment before it laid back down close to the warmth of its own body. He could just barely see a shock of black hair on its big, round head. She simply glowed as she stared at it, her mouth a soft smile as she spoke soft comforts that it gurgled contentedly at. She lovingly laid it down in the crib, running her long, beautiful fingers over its soft skin. _

_She'd had a baby. In the months she was gone, she'd gotten pregnant and- No. No, she had been pregnant **before**. She had been pregnant the last time she saw him, before the absence. She'd had a baby. _

_He didn't notice his suddenly ragged breathing. She straightened up and moved to the window to close the curtains, but then their eyes met and she stopped cold. Wide green eyes stared at him with shock, guilt, love, fear… And he could only stare right back. Her lips shifted breathlessly over his name. _

"_Is it mine?" he said shakily and though the window was closed, he knew she understood. Her eyes grew wet as she slowly, like a death sentence, shook her head. _

_A great pain struck through him and he left her standing at that window because he couldn't bare to be there anymore. _

_It was over, their little charade, and they both knew it now. _

----

A/N: Oh my GODS! This chapter was like pulling teeth! I don't know why. It was just...so...horrible. I'm not at all proud of this but if I rewrite, it'll never see print. Anyway...here you go.

**Acknowledgements:**

**japanese-jew** - Yes, hell DOES seem a lot like life...  
**Lady Azar de Tameran** - Dude, I've read some really good Percy/Oliver things. It's funny. And Boy!Blaise! Ah, he's lovely. All net writers seem to make him a total slut...lol. Anyway, I've decided on who Harry will be with. You'll just have to see, ne?  
**Shadow** - No, I'll tell you now, Harry will have no part in Snape's rescue. He's a bit too screwed up at the moment.  
**jillypooh** - Yeah, Narcissa's gotten into a soft part of my heart... THERE WILL BE NO SNARRY! I dunno how many times I've said it... As for Harry and Draco being friends, I can garentee that one. Anything more, you'll have to wait and see.  
**rosiegirl** - Okay.  
**DestinyEntwinements** - lol!  
**kizunakat** - Thanks for the hiliday wishes :smile:  
**animegurl088** - Thanks.  
**lurker 4.2** - Hehehe, I live to be sinister...  
**Shadow315** - I'm glad you're enjoying it!  
**hittocerebattosai** - Hee, I'm glad you're entertained. That's the point.  
**Shattered Diamond** - No, it's actually harder. I have to think, "how am I getting from point a to point b?" all the time..  
**rayama** - Yay! Thanks for the compliment.  
**Barby-Black** - I'm glad!  
**CrystalShifter** - lol, I've done that before, actually, making a reviewer like a character. Hee!  
- THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE HUGE LONG REVIEW! Omg, it made my day! Harry won't think he's dead much longer, as he's starting to find himself in that muddled head of his. AND I SO DON'T HATE YOU::GLOMP: You totally made my day! Thank you!  
**DebsTheSnapeFan** - Well, I would say yes but I'm still writing it. Slowly, but surely.   
**cherrypi292** - Glad you like it.

_Conditions Met:_  
1. Voldemort must be Harry's father  
**2. Severus eventually is loyal to Voldemort (unfinished) **  
3. Sirius comes back  
4. Black and Lupin side with Harry


	16. Jack Be Nimble

**Another Life**

**Warnings:** Yaoi/Slash, Angst, DARK themes, Backstabbing, Incest, Yuri/Fem-slash, and other various nastiness. Hard R rating.  
**Disclaimer:** Ain't mine.

**Chapter 15  
Jack Be Nimble**

It was a very ominous sound, chains clinking as they pulled the round, wooden platform up. It moved unevenly, jostling the two standing upon it. Above, they could hear the voices of witnesses as they quietly discussed the day's event. Cold blew down to chill their bones, their breath visible gas before them. He wondered if all of this was a type of mental torture, then realized yes, it had to be. He had witnessed this himself, but to actually be upon that rising platform, to know that it could be the last thing he ever experienced, made it all the more different.

Sound stopped when the platform did. They stood surrounded by Ministry officials who had pale, solemn faces and emotionless eyes. He caught sight of a few he knew. Their eyes held anger, betrayal, sickening pride… Two sparkling blue eyes smirked.

Down stepped the guard at his side. Up went the official designated to oversee the event. There was a scroll in his hands and he read from it, but the words did not penetrate the numbness that had overtaken the victim. He was not afraid, not angry. He wasn't feeling much of anything. The cold sent shivers down his back but it didn't register in his mind.

All he could think was, 'Well… It was a good run.'

"Do you understand?" asked the official.

At first, he said nothing, simply letting everything wash over him. Even if he didn't understand, he still wouldn't be leaving alive. Black eyes finally lifted and stared the official down as Severus Snape smiled.

"Yes," he murmured quietly for the sake of those gathered. What did it matter if he died, as long as Harry was safe? Not that he was going to.

Odd that none of them thought to wonder why the Potions Master was still smiling.

The courtroom was thrown into sudden pandemonium when dozens of Death Eaters apparated in. At once, nothing but confusing flashes of spells whizzed to and fro, wizards and witches' voices screaming out in a way that seemed almost like music.

Only one man noticed the guard that had been at Severus Snape's side move back to that position and take Snape's arm. Only he saw the glow of a port keyed stone pressed into a pale hand before the prisoner and his angel of rescue disappeared.

Dumbledore let out a frustrated scream before going back into the fight with a vengeance.

----

Did James Potter know of his own infertility? If he did, one had to wonder how he explained the birth of Harry. If not, one had to pity him for being a cockled husband. Narcissa was not in the business of pity in either case.

When she had set out to learn the secrets of Lily Potter's last years, Narcissa had begun with the records. Marriage, birth, death, even adoption. These papers gave her a time line to run by, creating a mental map. The marriage and death papers gave her nothing she hadn't already known. The birth certificate had a slight oddity, but since she had lived in the time it had been written, she understood it. Harry's blood had not been tested at the time of birth to be the biological child of both Lily and James. It wasn't a common practice then but had become so in years after the fall of Voldemort, since so many women had become pregnant due to rapes. This enabled the Ministry to put away more Death Eaters, if only for the charge of rape and not anything else. Narcissa felt some pity for the women but it they were not strong enough to escape or abort, she had little other feeling for them.

The second oddity came in the adoption papers. The whole thing had been rushed. It had taken less than twenty-four hours to push the matter through. That was completely unheard of. The Ministry seemed to thrive off making things long and difficult. Narcissa had pulled at every string she had, but no one remembered why it had been done so quickly. Then she noticed it.

One name popped up more often than any other. Albus Dumbledore. He had a hand in everything having to do with the Potters, even signing as a witness at their wedding. Her gut feeling was that the man was involved with Lily's leaving Tom Riddle.

Dumbledore would know about James. He simply would, as he knew most everything. Therefore, he would know that Lily's child has to be Riddle's.

Why did he allow a child of the Dark Lord live?

She scowled at the papers, for they could not answer that question. Shoving them all away on the desk, she got up and left the study. The search would continue when she was refreshed. The hall was pleasantly cool, stone walls insulating against the hot sun, a few spells circulating the air.

Near the library, she paused at a window as she spotted her son in the gardens. Beside him was the muddled boy, Harry. Draco laid on the stone path as he talked and the other boy seemed to be listening, sometimes even replying. She didn't know what she felt about the odd companionship between them. Her fear was that it would end once Harry regained himself. Draco may not show it to most, but he was very fragile when it came to issues of the heart.

Narcissa sighed softly and went on. She would wait and watch and see what happened. Her place was small in the drama but she wished for little else.

----

One escape and six semi-consecutive portkey jumps later, Remus Lupin finally escorted Severus Snape onto the grounds of Malfoy Manor. It was dark, late in the night, and both wizards were tired. The aurors had managed to track the first two jumps, so they'd had to fight and hide to jump safely and get away. No doubt, Remus Lupin's face would be plastered in the morning's paper as a Death Eater. He didn't mind this too much. Snape's safety, as tied to Harry's, meant far more to him.

The Potions Master had been affected by his stay in Azkaban, regardless of how short it might have been. He was haggard and exhausted, even more shallow faced than ever. In coming days or weeks, he might lose the hollow look in his eyes, as Hagrid had before, and Remus sincerely wished for it. He wasn't on the best of terms with Snape, but he didn't wish any harm upon the man.

Inside the manor, Remus led Snape towards the room that had been prepared for him, but a crashing sound made them pause.

"Bloody hell, Potter, can you be any more brain dead!" came Draco's voice through the halls. There was no audible answer, but he continued with, "No, don't pick that up with your bare hands, you dolt…"

Remus blinked when Snape pulled away from him, starting towards the voices. He followed after the other man, worried that he would push himself. As they grew closer, Draco's annoyed mumbles were more audible, but there was still no answering voice. Then Snape glanced through a doorway.

Sitting on the floor with his back turned to the door was Harry, who watched in silence as Draco carefully reconstructed a glass vase that had been shattered. The blonde finished and set it back into its place before he noticed the two men.

"Uncle," Draco said in surprise, blinking at them. "It worked…"

Harry glanced at Draco before getting up and turning to see. His eyes snapped wide and his face went pale. Snape watched the change in near fascination, but it all shattered when Harry let out a loud, wretched scream. It sounded as if something were ripping him to pieces… Harry stumbled backwards until he hit a wall, and then seemed to be trying to melt back into it as he continued to scream. Draco and Remus were dumbfounded.

Snape moved before either thought to. He was quickly in front of the boy, hands grabbing his shoulders tight as he gave him a rough shake.

"Harry!" he hissed, slapping the boy. "Shut up!"

It was enough to shock Harry into silence, but he was breathing too quickly, his eyes nearly unseeing.

"What is it?" Severus asked him urgently. Harry stared at him in silence for many long moments until Snape half believed he might never speak.

"You're dead," Harry whispered faintly, horror coloring his whole being.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You're dead! You're dead! Dead! You're dead! You're-"

"HARRY!"

The boy gave a pathetic little sniffle as his eyes grew wet. "_You weren't suppose to die…_"

"I didn't die," Snape replied quietly. "Why do you think I'm dead?"

"You're here. Like Remus. Sirius.."

"That damn mongrel," Snape cursed quietly. He sighed a bit. "Harry, Black isn't dead, much as I'd like him to be. He's not dead. Lupin is not dead. I'm not dead. No one in this house is dead."

Harry stared at him. Snape wondered if he actually got through to him. The boy was quiet, eyes searching his face for any sign of falsehood. The potions master waited. Finally, Harry nodded a little and his face grew very serious.

"I attacked Voldemort with a fork."

The room was utterly silent. Then the unthinkable happened. Snape dropped his head back and laughed.

----

Once Snape had recovered from his laughing fit, Remus escorted the man to his room with the boys trailing behind. Harry simply refused to let go of Snape's hand, nor could he be made to leave once his former caretaker was in bed. Remus, exasperated but unwilling to fight, finally magicked up a cot in Snape's room for Harry to sleep on. After, he grabbed Draco's arm and pulled him off to leave the two in peace. Harry slept very little. He sat on his cot, alternating between watching Snape sleep and falling into his own thoughts.

He wasn't dead.

Snape never lied unless it was a life or death situation. He held himself to one of the most strict moral codes Harry had ever known. Snape did not pretty up his own personality to please others and his blunt honesty was legendary. He'd never kept his true thoughts a secret and could be trusted to give a real critique when asked. So, Harry knew that he wasn't dead because Snape said so and Snape didn't lie.

He wasn't dead. He had attacked Voldemort with a fork.

For some reason, the thought struck him as something that should have been funny but wasn't. Harry thought back on that event, trying to figure out his own reasoning for it but failing miserably. As far as he could tell, he'd done it on a whim. No need to save anyone, just something he'd like to do. Another thought moved to take that one's place.

Sirius was alive. Harry didn't understand how this could be possible but _Snape had said so_. He felt vaguely embarrassed about how he'd acted around his godfather. Some things he'd thought and said didn't make sense to him anymore. It was as if he were waking very slowly from a long sleep and nothing was quite where it was suppose to be yet.

Draco would surely tease him once he'd figured out that Harry was beginning to be himself again. He sighed at the thought. The near companionship that had grown between them in the past days was nice and good and warm, and Harry didn't want to lose it… He knew he would and that was surprisingly painful. Inevitable, but so very painful. It almost scared him just how much he wanted to keep the tentative friendship forming between them.

Lifting his eyes, Harry watched Snape sleep, watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest, watched the repetitive motion of a few strands of wind blown hair. Snape was back, safe, and Harry would keep him that way no matter what. He would also make sure the man knew fully well that he would not appreciate any more sacrificing on his behalf. It was simply too much.

He couldn't lose Snape again.

And that was what broke the dam. Suddenly, Harry was crying and he couldn't stop. He buried his face in his hands and just sobbed. After a while, he became aware of the cool, bony, but welcoming presence holding him but that only made him cry harder. Snape rubbed his back, pet his hair, and most importantly, was there for him until it was over.

"Don't do that again!" Harry hissed out against Snape's shirt. The older man sighed a little.

"I can't promise that."

"You want to leave me?"

"No, Harry." Snape pulled away a little, hands resting on Harry's shoulders. He waited until the boy looked at him before continuing. "I would not leave you because I wanted to, but I cannot allow harm to you that I can prevent. If I must risk my life for you, I will."

"I don't want you to," Harry murmured softly.

"I'd rather stay alive. You're important, Harry. More important than you'll ever know."

There was a flicker in Harry's eyes before they glazed with a familiar anger Snape was almost glad to see, but couldn't understand. The boy ripped himself away, standing and taking a step back. His eyes smoldered as he glared at the Potions Master.

"Is that why you're doing this? Is that why you're so kind? Gentle? Why you're caring for me? Because I'm bloody _important_!"

Snape stayed silent.

"It is, isn't it?" The boy gave a harsh, angry laugh. "Bloody hell, I'm such an idiot. Of course that's why. Why else has anyone cared about the safety of Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Won't-Bloody-Well-Die!"

With a spark, Snape realized what was going through the boy's head. He stood.

"I still have to kill the Dark Lord!" Harry laughed out, covering his eyes with his hands. "Can't repeat that fork thing, didn't work. I'll have to think up something brilliant because I'm Harry-fucking-Potter!"

Snape grabbed the boy up in his arms and held him tight. Harry's body was shaking hard and his breath was too fast, almost choked. The boy clutched him just as tightly. He needed this.

"Get one thing straight," the older man murmured quietly as Harry struggled to calm himself. "I don't give a damn about what you're suppose to do to save the world. I really don't. Yes, ridding the world of evil is a noble and worthy cause, but I'm a Slytherin. That means I'm of a survivalist's mind. It isn't practical to set all hopes on you. You may be gifted, talented, and full of unhealthy courage, but you are just a boy. I refuse to ask you."

His shirt was growing damp from the boy's tears, but he didn't mention it.

"I want you to be safe, Harry. I always have, even when I didn't care for you much. Now, I've been able to see a worthy mind buried in that blockheaded foolhardiness." It might have been his imagination, but Snape thought he almost heard a little snicker at that. "I would throw my life away for you, Harry. You, not the Boy-Who-Lived or the Savior of the Wizarding World. Just you. Remember that because I hate repeating myself."

And that brought another batch of tears neither would talk about. Snape held Harry until he was ready to face the world and then they both went to sleep.

----

_It was crazy. Everything was crazy. Why did he even care anymore? _

_Half the time, he wasn't even awake. He had more lost time than hours he could actually account for. It was as if something was sucking up his soul and spitting out only what it didn't need. And then the papers… the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters… Even that news didn't phase him anymore. _

_The only thing that mattered now was the one image in his mind that wouldn't leave him. Lillian in the window, her baby pressed to her chest and eyes filled with such sorrow… Did she think he was so stupid? So easy to manipulate! She'd **used** him! Used him and then threw him away without even telling him! How dare that **bitch**… _

_His days had been filled with the need to pay her back somehow for the pain she caused him. It wasn't rational, wasn't thought out. It was only a raw need that would have scared him years before when he was of a better mind. Now, he was a mere shadow of the man he'd been. He didn't care about how dark his thoughts were. Didn't care about how frightening he was becoming. All he wanted was to pay that bitch back for ruining the only light in his life. _

_So he did. _

_He went to the house. Killed James Potter in the hallway. Kicked the fucking bastard's dead body, even though it didn't bring him any joy. He kicked it until he was sure ribs were broken. Even if Potter didn't feel it anymore, he didn't care. _

_Then he went to the nursery and there she was. She stood before her baby's crib and he wanted so much to hate her but even then…even then he just….just…. _

"_Not Harry. Not my baby." _

"_Not you," he responded, raising his wand. His face felt wet but he didn't dare think about why. She looked into his eyes and her face calmed as she reached back to touch her child for the last time. _

"_I love you, Thomas." _

_There was a flash of green and then she was laying still on the ground. He felt a sob well up in his throat as he fell to his knees beside her. He didn't touch her, couldn't bear to. Her deep green eyes stared lifelessly up at him and he cried. He wanted to take it back, make it never happen, kill himself if it would bring her back, but… _

_The infant began to cry. He got up, staring at the tiny little thing. Messy, raven black hair…Potter's spawn… He felt the anger return, burn even hotter for that abomination. This child was the cause of her death! He was her executioner! He was….he was… a baby…an infant… an innocent. _

_The child cried for it's mother, tears streaming down that plumb baby face. _

_He lifted his wand before he could stop himself. 'Don't worry, child, I'll send you along with her, no need to be alone in this world…' _

_He couldn't hate the child, even then. Couldn't. His wand started to drop as his resolve lessened and disappeared. _

_And then his arm jerked up without his consent and his voice, too strong and almost a hissed sound, growled out the spell. A flash of green… _

_Thomas Riddle went to sleep and hoped never to wake again. _

----

A/N: School's out! Now I can concentrate on my writing... Yay! Um...Harry's really whiny in this chap... He'll get better, promise.

**Acknowledgements:**

**rayama** - Thanks! I'm glad I'm able to keep interest  
**Spoon no Miko** - The name rocks, by the way... Yeah. Snape can't die. Harry'd go nutso...  
**crazy-lil-nae-nae** - Will do!  
- Wow, couragous one aren't we? For your info, a child can be declared legally responsible for themselves at age 16 by emancipation.  
- How annoying. This story does NOT take Book 6 into account. Therefore, I'm more free to shift events in the past. What does Grindlewauld have to do with Voldy anyway?  
**hittocerebattosai** - Oh, I hate it when keyboards get out of wack! Hope you got it fixed!  
**DestinyEntwinements** - Yes, Harry's weird. lol  
**otakufea** - :blush: I'm so glad you're enjoying this...I try hard to make powerful images and knowing I affect someone like that is really good for my self-esteem, lol  
- Some people have weaker self-images that can be damaged by stronger personalities. That's what happened with Harry.  
**Seibutsusen** - Oh my gods, you made my day...Just...I nearly cried at the compliments. THank you so much...  
**v v c** - You'll prolly be waiting a while for the explaination, but it's not quite what most people think it is. :laughs:  
**I-Y-T-Y** - Thanks so much!  
**Flensa** - heh, thanks!  
**Angel no Yami** - I enjoy Father!Voldie fics but I'm definately enjoying my own take on it..  
**Ron16** - I'm happy that the Ginny/Hermione couple has gone off so well. And Snape, Lupin, and Black are so fun to write...!  
**Illeanah** - Heh, I'm glad you have your theories. THey make the writing so much more fun  
**Yasgur53** - I made someone like my Snape! YES! I just realized that he can be snarky AND a good guy at the same time. And I WILL eventually finish this...it just might take me a while.  
**AceZ-Shadow** - Right now.  
**wover03** - Thanks so much for the detailed review. It helps me get better... Yeah, last chap wasn't my greatest but I can only write the story as it comes to me...


	17. Itsy Bitsy Spider

**Another Life**

**Warnings:** Yaoi/Slash, Angst, DARK themes, Backstabbing, Incest, Yuri/Fem-slash, and other various nastiness. Hard R rating.  
**Disclaimer:** Ain't mine.

**Chapter 16  
Itsy Bitsy Spider**

There was something to be said about the ingenuity of one Peter Pettigrew, better known as Wormtail. Without Lucius Malfoy to load over him, he had been given more duties as Lord Voldemort's right hand man. All that Lucius once was, Wormtail had been forced to become. It was he who managed the financial assets of the Death Eaters, he who fine tuned plans for raids and chose the teams, he who managed the distribution of the spoils.

So, was it really any wonder that he was soon recognized throughout to be the real leader of the Death Eaters?

Of course, no one said this aloud, not even Wormtail himself. The words would have brought wrath down upon them all. Instead, the Death Eaters themselves shifted their attentions little by little from pleasing the Dark Lord to pleasing his general, Wormtail. The Master had little to do with the daily goings on anymore and seemed to be growing more and more distant as the days went on. The Death Eaters were too terrified by his power to accuse him of losing interest, but the evidence slowly mounted.

Wormtail sat in his study, surrounded by various books, reports, half finished plans, and many other pieces of paper work ready for his say. Instead of messing with any of it, he stared at the wall, wringing his hands in his lap.

"Right…right…absolutely right," he muttered to himself, eyes hazy and faraway. He rocked gently back and forth, chewing his bottom lip. "Yes, yes, me, that's right, that's right…"

It was a common thing, this strange babbling and rocking, but no one had ever seen it. Wormtail had made certain of that. He only listened when no one was around and they only spoke when he was alone. It made things so much easier.

"Of course," he whispered out, "You're brilliant."

Grabbing his quill, he jabbed it into the inkpot and went to writing furiously. The plans that had seemed so horrible, so impossible before were now clear in his mind and ready for the last little details. In the morning, he would give them off to one of his aides to inform the others of what was to be done. There was no need to inform the Master, for it was only a trivial thing and the Master had other issues on his mind.

'Yes, let me do this,' thought Wormtail, 'let me show you my worth, let me-'

The thoughts paused with his quill as he cocked his head, glancing into nothing. Then, he slowly smiled.

"Thank you," he murmured almost lovingly and then went back to writing.

----

Breakfast the morning after Snape was brought to Malfoy Manor proved rather…odd. Narcissa watched those around her with wry amusement. Men were such funny creatures.

There, sandwiched between Snape and Sirius, was Harry, who hadn't lifted his eyes from his plate. Instead of eating, he simply shifted food around the plate. The rest of the table watched him, each badly concealing it, but the boy never noticed.

Voldemort sat at her side, sipping a mug of coffee. His delicate hands were tight, eyes weary. Narcissa fought to keep a smile off her face. Ah, the wonders of actually understanding other people's emotions… At her others side was her son. Draco glanced at Harry every few seconds, usually after a bite he probably didn't even taste. The poor boy had already gone through two plates full, likely without even knowing it.

The wolf was the only one with any ability to hide his distress. She almost applauded him, but he, too, gave himself away with a few too many glances. It was actually rather funny. He waited exactly four minutes between each glance.

"Harry, eat your eggs," Snape said sternly, breaking up the silence and the others' rituals. Harry glanced up at him, and then ate the eggs without complaint. Sirius and Remus were floored. They looked between Harry and Snape, then at each other, and Narcissa could almost hear twin frustrated screams. She'd seen how hard they had worked to get Harry to eat anything at all, and now, just a few words from Snape and there it was done.

Voldemort lifted a brow as he glanced at Narcissa after a nearly silent snicker. He'd awakened that morning to find he was now the owner of a new set of slim eyebrows. The others of the house were used to his ever-changing face, so they'd said nothing about the new development. Eyebrows were the last thing he'd thought about but now that he had them, he'd found his range of expression had been multiplied by quite a bit.

"May I be excused?"

Voldemort looked back at Harry, but the boy wasn't looking at him. Harry had directed the question to Snape, who didn't answer. Instead, the ex-spy gave Voldemort a glance, something that pleased the Dark Lord more than he'd admit.

"You may," Voldemort said. Harry's eyes snapped to him and he sat very still for a second or so. Then he got up and left the table. Exactly thirty seconds later, Draco was finished with his meal. Narcissa couldn't hide her amused smile at that.

Sirius tried his best to kill Snape with his gaze alone, but the man refused to up and die. "How did you-"

"I ordered," the Potions Master replied absently before biting into a biscuit.

Remus blinked. Blinked again. And then he threw back his head and laughed as he realized that had been the only thing they hadn't dared try while trying to get Harry to take care of himself and eat. Asked, begged, pleaded, but they had always left it up to him. Snape would do none of that.

Narcissa barely contained her own laughter at the whole thing.

----

It was all very simple when she really thought about it. The notion made her skin crawl and carved a huge pit of fear in her belly, but she could think of nothing else. It was absolutely terrifying. But if she was right…if she was right….

Ginny and Ron hovered worriedly close by as Hermione wrote furiously. They didn't know what she was doing so they simply played gopher for her, grabbing what she needed when she asked them. They figured it had something to do with Harry, because why else would she be so singularly focused? Hermione threw herself into a great many things, but not wholly. She usually left herself open for other things, but not this time. This time, it took all of her concentration.

"I need a map."

Ron didn't even ask what the map should be of. He got up and raced to get the house atlas. Most of the maps within it were scribbled on in some fashion, but hopefully it would work. He set it down in frot of her and Hermione flipped quickly to a cap of their own country. Ron was a little surprised, but didn't question. Not when she was like that. Hermione dug out her wand and a sickle from her pocket as Ron backed off to sit with his sister again, each glancing at the other with concern.

Hermione mumbled a few spells onto the sickle, her wand emitted soft little glows. Ron and Ginny thought they might have recognized a few but mostly didn't. After all, Hermione was the genius.

Said genius grabbed a length of cord she'd asked for earlier and attached the sickle to it. She held it like a pendulum over the map and cast another spell or two. With a start, Ginny recognized what she was doing. _Scying!_ Hermione really _was_ a genius! But what if…

The sickle started to revolve. Ginny and Ron leaned in, watching as for the first time that day, Hermione's face held triumph. She grabbed her quill and quickly circled the area. It was still a pretty large place to search, but she'd narrowed it down to three square miles and that was better than the whole country.

"He's there."

Ron took the map and looked at it, frowning. "How do we find him there?"

"Don't worry about that." Hermione got up and went to her trunk as she started to pack it. "I'm going there."

"Not without me!" Ginny replied as she got up. Ron watched both for a few seconds, then sighed and went to pack his own bag.

Maybe soon, they would be reunited with their wayward friend.

----

The garden seemed very different now that he was really awake. It was just a garden now, not the collection of touches and smells that had entertained him before. As he stood within the green leaves and bright flowers, he could not summon that childlike curiosity he'd held for it all. That saddened him.

He knelt down in front of one of the familiar plants, reaching out to touch the velvety leaves, and though it did feel nice, there was still nothing. He'd awakened back to his numb state. Even his insides felt numb.

He wasn't dead. He wished he were because then he didn't have to think about anything. Now, thoughts and memories and pain surged through his mind with such ferocity that he didn't know how long he could stand it. He very much wanted to die, that hadn't changed at all, but he couldn't kill himself and Voldemort didn't seem very excited about doing the honor for him anymore.

Merlin, why was he even there? Now that he was awake to think about it, why was he at Malfoy Manor? Why were Sirius and Remus there, sharing breakfast with the fucking Dark Lord? They didn't seem too perturbed about it. And why wasn't Voldemort maiming him at every chance?

He didn't even realize he'd moved after hearing the sound of grass underfoot until he had his hand curled around a slim throat and his eyes locked with startled gray. Draco gawked at him from where he was, pinned against one of the trees that framed the garden. Harry blinked and let go, stepping back. Draco rubbed his neck and glared.

"What's the bloody idea, Potter?"

Harry looked away without answering. He didn't know why he'd reacted that way. It hadn't ever happened before. He looked down at his hand, seeing the vivid image of it wrapped around that slender throat...

Hands on his shoulder. He looked up and green eyes locked with silver. Draco frowned a bit. "It's fine, Potter. Let it go."

Harry felt lost and small and insignificant. He hated that feeling and it filled his entire being. He wanted to break down, shaking and crying, but he couldn't. He just couldn't.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you being nice to me?" With those few words, Harry opened the floodgate. His voice came out high and hurried as his eyes started to go wild with insecurity. "Why have you been kind to me at all this last while? Why are you here? Why do you play chess with me? Why haven't you tried to anger me, hit me, beat me, anything! Why is everyone acting so strange? Why aren't I dead? Why is everything so strange-"

His voice was muffled as he was smashed against a soft clothed shoulder. Harry clung to him, though he didn't know why. Why he wanted it. Needed it. And Draco held him so damn tight and it was exactly right and that made Harry just want to cry. He didn't, barely. He wouldn't, except with Snape. Only Snape could see his weakness. But he still held onto Draco just as tightly as he'd ever held Snape. Just as needily.

Merlin, he hated himself.

Draco never said a word. He held Harry, stroking his back as he tried to calm the other boy, listening to his quick breath with worry, wondering not for the first time why he was doing this. He couldn't actually say he liked Harry particularly. He didn't hate him anymore, that was for sure, but there was no fondness. Not yet. Draco thought that maybe, probably, there could be, or could have been, or something like that, but there definitely wasn't anything right then. Nothing. He could hold Harry and comfort him and do things like that, but he didn't feel anything from it.

He kept telling himself that he didn't care when Harry calmed but didn't pull away. That he didn't care when the other boy's warm breath hit his neck, head nestled in the crook of his shoulder. That he didn't care when, instead of loosening, Harry held on tighter.

"I don't know," Draco said suddenly. Harry gave no reaction. "I don't know why everything is strange now. I don't know why people are being kind to you more than before. I don't know what changed."

He could feel eyelashes flutter against his skin as Harry closed his eyes. A pale hand slid into black hair and was surprised at how soft it was.

"I act how I want to act. That's all I know."

Harry made a sound and Draco didn't know if it was a laugh or a sob. He didn't care either way. It felt good, holding him, protecting him, and Draco didn't want to lose that. Couldn't lose that, not willingly.

"Crying's not going to fix anything," he said quietly.

"I'm not crying."

Draco almost smiled at the half-petulant tone.

"Really? Could have fooled me."

"I'm not crying!"

Harry started pulling away but Draco tightened his grip, fingers curling through his thick hair. Harry didn't understand this. He didn't understand any of it.

"Just let me – for just a second – I…"

Harry stopped struggling. Draco didn't know what he had been trying to say. He didn't know what he wanted, only that he couldn't let go of that warmth between them, that …that trust. He craved it more than anything in his entire life and he didn't even know why. He needed to feel… Merlin, he didn't know what he needed. But this was part of it. This was part of it.

"Draco?"

"What?"

There was a lengthy pause. He could feel Harry take a deeper breath and slowly release it, as if to psych himself up. That was strangely endearing and that should have bothered him but didn't.

"I like this," came the whisper finally, barely audible. "Closeness. I like this."

Draco didn't answer but he didn't let go.

"I like not fighting with you."

The words were growing stronger but still so quiet. They made Draco feel strange, an odd hollow feeling he'd never noticed slowly filled, if only for that moment.

"Can we keep not fighting?"

"Okay."

And that was it.

"Okay."

----

_When he first saw her, that little red haired girl with vicious green eyes, he knew that she was the one he had been waiting for. She was perfect, so smart and bold, and she chose exactly the right friends for his purposes. The messy haired boy liked her immediately, he could tell, and though he annoyed her often, she liked him as well. He had watched through the years as they added others to their little group. Each child was just the pawn he needed in his plans. He had only had to wait and he had always possessed immense patience. _

_His influence in her life was not felt immediately by her. She didn't know how he carefully manipulated her closer to those he wanted her with, how he nurtured her to be exactly what he needed. She responded perfectly. The perfect tool. _

_And when he brought in his second perfect tool, yes… Yes, everything went according to his great plan. He could see it, though all others, even the tools themselves, were oblivious. The connection was made. Their minds were so open to him that it was almost pathetic, the way they tried to hide it. She kept her charade with the Potter boy, he kept his with his teaching. Lovely. Simply lovely. _

_He knew that as soon as the graduation had been finalized, she would follow his second tool to wherever he went. Good. Wonderful. Perfect. _

_Not for the first time, a little voice wondered how he could be such a manipulative bastard. _

----

A/N: ...Yeah. I'm sorry about the wait. But hey, D/H snuggles. Also, the last scene in each chap is now going to be from someone else's POV, not Tom's.

**Acknowledgements:**

**I-Y-T-Y** - Yes, the fork bit amused me too...And poor Tommy. As for a loving father, well, time will tell.  
**Flensa** - Yay!  
**animegurl008** - Wrote more.  
**Shadow315** - Um. Is pre-slash okay?  
**rayama** - I'm glad I'm doing well! Honestly, I worry about that a lot...  
**jillypooh** - I love my Snape too! My Voldie is kinda growing on me though.  
**amethystsylph** - Well, I really can't tell you what's up with Tom. It's a secret.  
**hittocerebattosai** - Yay, new keyboard!  
**Echo** - I never said Imperius :smile: Could be though. As for Lucius...you'll have to wait and see.  
**AceZ-Shadow** - When the time is right.  
**War-chan** - I gotta admit. I have a facination with Abuse!Harry. Just do. Yay for my VOldie! Gods, you made me blush! And, just to get this though, I'm a guy. :sweatdrop:  
**ravenuk** - Yay!  
**Reviewer-Who-Begs-for-Update** - I actually put that line on my school notebook. No one gets it. :laughs:  
**v v c** - Well, Sev HAD to be rescused...or Harry would be dead. And things are definately picking up now...  
**snowlight144** - Confused it actually good. I'm going for that.  
**Kougyoku** - I wub you::GLOMP:  
**wondererx** - Um. No. I don't update with any regularity at all. Sorry!  
**sernity1806** - Glad you like it!  
**ImperialJedi** - I love people who love Sev::BLUSH:  
**ladykind** - Eventually, yes.  
**Batutousai** - Death by fork would be embarrassing. I'm so glad I've affected you with my writing! It makes me so happy!  
**elkashadow** - Yes, that seems to be the quote of the month. :laughs:  
**EbonyBlack1** - It will take a bit for Harry to heal, but he will. Have no fear.  
**MoonLuvr** - Well, you're lucky. I updated soon. :Laughs:


	18. Higglety, Pigglety

**Another Life**

**Warnings:** Yaoi/Slash, Angst, DARK themes, Backstabbing, Incest, Yuri/Fem-slash, and other various nastiness. Hard R rating.  
**Disclaimer:** Ain't mine.

**Chapter 17  
Higglety, Pigglety**

Molly Weasley had never been so terrified in her entire life. Her face was sore and hot from crying and her body ached from the trembling that had raged her only an hour prior. Arthur had tried to comfort her, but even he was so overcome with grief that he could only hold her in his arms and worry as well. They listened to the reassurances from the others, but could not actually take them as proof.

Ron, Ginny, and Hermione were gone.

She had failed them. Molly knew this, deeply within her, to be true. She had failed her youngest children and her adopted daughter and now they were gone. No amount of words would soothe her of that. She had failed them and now they were gone.

Dumbledore had come before and given them assurances that the children would be found. Molly didn't believe him. She wanted to, rather desperately, but she simply...couldn't. Wouldn't. In her mind, those three young ones were gone forever. Whether they left on their own or were taken away, she didn't know. If the latter, she would _rip them to bloody pieces and then feed them to pigs. _If they'd gone on their own... Well... Ron and Hermione were seventeen. She could not make them come back. Ginny was sixteen, but she only had a few months of that left. Molly felt helpless and that was a feeling she simply abhorred.

When night came, Molly got up and led her husband to their bedroom. They got themselves ready to sleep and then laid down upon the old, worn bed.

"They're with Harry," said Arthur softly. Molly closed her eyes and pressed her cheek against his chest, feeling his upon her hair.

"I hope," she whispered back. "Merlin, I hope..."

They said nothing more, though sleep did not come.

----

Harry felt deja vu. He sat at the end of the table, staring down at his plate to keep from looking at the creature at the other end of the table. He didn't want to be there, but Snape had urged him to take the invitation so he had, but he still didn't want to be there. With his fork, he pushed food around the plate. He'd been hungry before he found out about this arrangement. Now, his stomach was tying up in knots and he felt like vomiting, though he knew there was nothing within his stomach.

"Eat."

Green eyes lifted and gazed down the table. Harry didn't know how to deal with this...version of the demon he had hated his entire life. Hell, he didn't even know if any Death Eater would take his life now. Still, that little part inside him that wasn't completely numb, wasn't totally hidden away in some deep, dark oasis of his soul, cried out for defiance.

"No."

Harry was actually more surprised by his own voice than Voldemort at the lack of willingness. He set down his fork and pushed the plate away a few inches before dropping his hands into his lap. He stared at Voldemort with nothing on his face. The Dark Lord watched him quietly, his head resting on one hand while the other set down his fork as well.

"If you will not eat, then we will talk," he said with finality. Harry didn't answer, but he hadn't gotten up to leave and Voldemort took that as proof that he may at least listen. He'd only eaten a small portion of his own dinner, but the Dark Lord was feeling...nervous, actually. "Severus tells me that you have 'awakened', so to speak, from a walking coma and that you are now fully aware of your situation."

Harry only stared at him.

"I wish you to understand that I have no further wish to harm you." He expected Harry to kick up some kind of fuss, but the teenager was absolutely silent. "Certain information brought to my attention has made that an...unappealing outcome to our interactions."

"What do you want from me?"

Voldemort thought about this because Harry deserved a well formed reply. "I want you to be safe, feel safe, and know you are safe, always."

"Why?"

"Because I do."

Harry looked back down at his plate. "That's bullshit."

"Language." Green eyes shot him a dirty look and Voldemort almost reprimanded him for that as well. He didn't and that was probably a better idea. He didn't know how Harry would react to that. He didn't know how he would react to anything, really.

"Are you still going to purify the world?"

Voldemort stared at the child, taken aback. He said nothing, sitting very still under Harry's relentless gaze.

"If you are then I will kill you," the boy said firmly. "I don't care if I die as well, just as long as you're dead."

His eyes burned with hate and though he was happy to see emotion at all within those green eyes, it still wounded the heart Voldemort would once have sworn was dead.

"I know."

Harry nodded and got up. "Good night."

"Good night."

The boy left. Voldemort rested his head in his hands, closing his eyes.

"Good night," he repeated in the softest of whispers, "my son."

----

Hermione stopped walking a little after midnight. They'd left on the Knight Bus, which got them as close to where she wanted to go as the bus would go. Stan warned them that there was nothing but muggles in the area, but Hermione was sure that this was it so Ginny and Ron only gave Stan an indulgent smile before following her out. All each had was a knapsack on their backs with a change of clothing and a bit of food. Hermione didn't plan on being out for long.

The countryside was vast and few lived close to anyone else. That worked well for their purposes. Ron put up the tent and the three curled in inside for a few hours of rest before they headed off again. Hermione led, the map held tightly in one hand and the string-and-sickle in the other. She'd explained nothing but Ron and Ginny were sure that following her was the best option. If anything, they could watch her back as she was so focused she'd likely miss an attack at point blank range. When Ginny tried to ask her what she was up to, Hermione had responded in some kind of technobabble that neither Weasley child understood. They caught about every third word, but none of it made any sense. Hermione was and had always been on a level far higher than themselves when it came to sheer knowledge. If she didn't get hired for the Ministry's research branch, it would only be because someone powerful excluded her on purpose.

Suddenly, Hermione stopped cold. Ginny nearly ran into her but managed to stumble back a step. She peeked past Hermione and spotted a tall, strong fence but couldn't see anything beyond it.

Hermione smiled. "We found it."

A moment later, there was a wand pressed to the back of her head and four more robed figures surrounding them.

----

Chess had become an evening ritual within Malfoy Manor. Who played changed each night, but more often than not, it was Harry. He had never been particularly good at it but he wasn't horrible and it was found that he possessed one of the more careful playing styles in the house. Draco still beat him most of the time and Narcissa maintained a winning streak, but Harry still tried his best and he was getting better.

Harry was winning tonight but Draco chalked it up to inattention on his part. His thoughts kept straying for he had realized there were only three weeks until school started. Three weeks until he had to pull on his mask again and become something of a terror. It bothered him but it had to be done. What worried him was that Harry might not understand that change. The other boy was fully aware now, yes, but still sensitive, still fragile as ever and it scared Draco to think he might inadvertently drive Harry back into the delusions. He wasn't even sure Harry would be allowed to go back to school at all.

"Checkmate."

Draco blinked back into reality and stared down at the board. Harry frowned at him.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just thinking."

"Did it hurt?"

Draco scowled. "Prat."

Harry gave an amused little smile. The nice evening was abruptly broken when Narcissa stepped into the main living room.

"Harry, Draco, follow me," she said and her voice was rather serious. Both boys got up to follow immediately. Narcissa led them through the halls and into a wing Harry hadn't been in before. It was older, more of the priceless and questionable artifacts of the Malfoy family housed in rooms with no doors, but that seemed to be protected anyway. Harry tried not to look at them. He really didn't want to lose the image of the Malfoys he'd been building the last few days. It would probably trigger some kind of regression he didn't want to experience.

They stopped at an actual door and Narcissa went through without a word. The boys followed, each curious and a little apprehensive over what might be the reason... Harry stopped dead.

"What the...?" Draco started, lifting a brow. "Since when do we let Weasleys and Mudbloods into our house?"

"Language," Narcissa said quietly, glancing towards Harry. The boy just stared. Narcissa's guards had brought in the three teenagers once they'd been stupefied and placed them in the holding cell. The cells rarely got use anymore since Lucius was incarcerated but they were still kept up in case. The three laid on cots next to one another, still stupefied to keep them from causing trouble.

"What are they doing here?" Harry asked in a quiet, shocked voice. He had almost managed to forget the world outside Malfoy Manor but seeing them brought it abruptly back to him. He felt overwhelmed and then disappointed in himself for not being happy to see his friends. What was wrong with him...? Was he so caught up in his own drama that he couldn't take someone intruding into it...?

Draco gave him a worried glance that Narcissa felt inside before she primly clasped her hands in front of her.

"I can send them away."

Harry looked up at her and for a moment, she thought he might let her. His stare was pained and scared and confused and tore at something within her that she'd only felt for her own son before. He looked back at his friends and then took a slow, steady breath.

"No. They'd come back."

Draco did not mention that they could send the prats away every time they came. He would have relished in it. After all, with them here, what was to stop Harry from going to them when he needed someone in his space? What was to stop him from deciding that he, Draco, was useless to him? They would try very hard to take this budding...thing between them away, Draco was sure of it.

Narcissa ordered that rooms be made up for the three and they were moved into them as soon as they were ready. Before Draco could disappear somewhere to sulk, Harry grabbed his arm. Draco looked back, but Harry's eyes were on the still forms of his friends as the house elves took them away. He didn't move until they were out of sight, then turned to Draco with his face utterly blank.

"Chess?"

If he hadn't spoken, Draco would never have known how torn up Harry was feeling inside. That small word was barely held together at all, as if the single syllable had had to be pried out at great cost to its speaker. Draco nodded his agreement before he realized it. After a moment, Harry look away and started back for the oasis that was the chessboard. When he played, he didn't have to think about anything else. It was like being asleep again and Harry wished not for the first time that he was still in the haze.

They sat down and put the pieces in place. Draco moved first and the game was one. It was silent except for the scrape of pieces moving and breaking. Predictably, Draco won so they set up and went again. It was far into the night before Harry finally relented and the boys went to bed.

Draco lay awake under the sheets for a long while and thought about the need in his voice when Harry had said the word 'chess'.

----

Ginny awoke in pre-dawn. She sat up and stared at the unfamiliar room around her. It was grand, rich beyond what she'd seen before, but it seemed too alien to really appreciate. Ginny climbed out of the bed and stood by it as she continued to look around. A sound caught her off guard. She turned towards one of the two doors out and saw the light underneath. Tensing, she stared at it, listening to the shuffling of someone behind. And then the door opened and Harry Potter stepped out.

He looked tired, but more alive than the last time she saw him. Her first urge was to throw her arms around him and hug him forever, but something kept her from it. Perhaps it was the way he looked at her as he stood in the doorway. Perhaps it was the air around him of seclusion. He turned off the light and shut the bathroom door.

"Harry," she said softly, as if afraid to break the fantasy that he was really there with her, alive and well.

"Ginny," he responded in a quiet, almost blank voice. He didn't look happy to see her, but he didn't seem completely unpleased. Later on, she would wonder if this was what made her suddenly ragingly angry.

"You're a bloody prat, Harry Potter!" she yelled suddenly, storming over to him. His head jerked around when she slapped him hard and there wasn't even a flash of guilt within her. "We were worried about you! How dare you not contact us? How dare you make Hermione cry? How dare you be here and whole and fine when we were so very afraid for you?"

Harry turned his head and stared at her silently. Ginny didn't know she was crying until her face was pressed to his chest and she felt the warm wetness soak into his shirt. Harry didn't move, staring down at the top of her head, but she didn't need him to.

"You bloody prat..."

She shut her eyes tightly as her hands curled in his shirt. She wanted to hug him again, to assure herself that yes, he was there, but she didn't. And there, in that little place that had never healed from her first infatuation, a tiny voice sprang up to do more than just hug him. It was joined by another, darker part that whispered little fears in her ears when Hermione denied her and hid their relationship, whispering to do something, anything, to make her jealous, to cut Hermione as she was cut. Ginny felt a shiver run down her back at such dark thoughts. She tried to make them go away, but they never did for long.

Ginny jumped a little when she felt a thin hand move to rest upon her head, fingers sliding into her hair. It felt so very...strange. She didn't dare move, didn't want to give Harry a reason to let go. It scared her just how good that tiny little contact felt. It scared her to think someone other than Hermione could affect her this way, especially when that someone was Harry Potter, the first boy she'd fallen for.

"I'm sorry."

She looked up and he was still staring at her with that lack of...lack of the familiar warmth in his face.

"I'm sorry," he repeated when she didn't say anything. She shook her head a little and moved away from him, rubbing at her eyes a bit. She hadn't cried, but her eyes were still wet anyway.

"No, it's okay. It's not your fault."

He nodded a bit, folding his arms over his chest. "Breakfast is at nine."

With that, he started for the second door and opened it, revealing a hallway beyond.

"Harry!" she called before he could leave. He looked back, waiting. "I'm glad you're okay."

"I'm not," he replied quickly, green eyes showing nothing. "But I'm getting that way."

And then he really did leave. Ginny sat down on the edge of the bed and hoped he was telling the truth.

----

_The boy was barely eleven years old. So young, so angry at the world, yet, so willing to give up anything for something better, something more fulfilling. He didn't care what he had to do to escape his situation. _

"_Hello, Tom. It's nice to meet you." _

_The boy stared with those dark eyes, mistrusting and yet wanting so much to trust. Rather amusing, really, but perfect for his purposes. So easily twisted, this one would be. _

"_What do you want?" _

"_I think you know the answer to that, my boy." _

_Brown eyes narrowed but he didn't back down. Too spirited. _

"_You know I'm special," he said confidently. _

"_Yes, I do." He smiled and the boy didn't, but he could tell that it had made the child happy to hear. "I've come to offer you a place at my school." _

"_You'll help me control it then? The… the magic?" 'Magic' said in such a little whisper made it sound far more magical than he'd ever though before. Odd. _

"_Yes. You'll be with others like yourself." _

"_Where is it?" _

"_Far away." Brown eyes glimmered with excitement. _

"_Do I have to come back here?" _

_He was quiet for a bit and saw as some of the enthusiasm drained from Tom's face. _

"_I do, don't I?" _

"_Yes. Each summer." _

"_But the rest of the time, I can be away, right?" _

"_Yes." _

_Tom was quiet for a bit, thinking deeply to himself. A little wrinkle appeared between his dark brows. It took longer than he thought it would for the boy to respond and then it was something he'd expected. _

"_I don't have any money." _

"_There is help available." _

_Tom nodded a little and straightened up, his face far too serious for his age. "I accept your offer." _

"_Wonderful." _

----

A/N: I have no excuse for the wait. I really don't. Just, ya know, college, internships, family, and the like. No excuse at all.

**Acknowledgements:**

Instead of answering each person individually, I'm gonna summerize my responces to yor reviews here. That way, I don't have to repeat myself.

Snape was able to order Harry around because of their bond, but it likely wouldn't have worked for the others. I suppose Snape did change a bit too quickly. I see him as someone who just needs to be acknowledged. At the moment, Harry acknowledges him as one of the most important things in his life, if not the most. Snape repsonded to that.

Yes, Dumbledore has been manipulating things since Tom's school days and is now narrating the memory sequences. I see him as Deputy Headmaster. Dumbledore and Lucius may have a connection but I won't confirm anything. Lucius may have controlled Tom and may get out of Azkaban, but I won't say it definately. Tom knows nothing of Lucius's role, if he has one at all. Voldemort/Tom with eyebrows is sexy.

Harry does want to be a child. He never really got to be one. He will get better when the time comes. That's already in motion. Abused!Harry bouncing back quickly annoys the hell out of me, so I didn't do it. Yes, Weak!Harry is annoying me as well, Black Phoenix. He's starting to get better though. He also still had no clue about Voldie being his dad. I don't know if this will end up Draco/Harry. I have no concrete relationship plans for Harry.

Wormtail's problem will come to light eventually. Yes, the Ron, Hermione, Ginny Rescue Mission is boring, but it's over. Sort of.

thestralqueen, just to make you happy, I update.

Yes, "I attacked Voldemort with a fork" is a very funny line. I hold no claim on it; use it as you wish. I won't even ask for credit.

Misc stuff: I'm not going to change the title. It fits. I was very flattered when you said I should write the 7th book. I don't know how long this will be, but we're only half way through the plot I have planned out so far.

Last of all, I need to give props to Shadow Lighthawk for writing me such a long, wonderful review. You made my day and you don't know how much that meant to me.


	19. Birds of a Feather

**Another Life**

**Warnings:** Yaoi/Slash, Angst, DARK themes, Backstabbing, Incest, Yuri/Fem-slash, and other various nastiness. Hard R rating.  
**Disclaimer:** Ain't mine.

**Chapter 18  
Birds of a Feather**

Hermione almost didn't want to believe what she was seeing. It would break apart some of the very core elements of her beliefs. Yet, she was never one to deny what her very own eyes saw. She didn't want to believe it, but she couldn't stand not doing so. Hermione swallowed thickly and murmured, "Hello, Sirius."

"Morning, Hermione," he answered, smiling as if nothing was wrong. As if he hadn't been dead for a few months. "You slept in. Breakfast was an hour ago."

"Oh." Her voice sounded a little weak. "Sorry."

"It's okay. I don't think Narcissa minded much."

"Then this is Malfoy Manor?"

"Yup. I'm afraid you're a prisoner now like the rest of us."

"Oh."

Hermione was afraid to look down at her hands in case Sirius disappeared from in front of her. It sounded so weird that he was on friendly enough terms with their 'captors' to call the eldest Malfoy by her first name. Then again, they were cousins. Maybe that was why. Hermione wondered vaguely why she was thinking about such stupid things.

"You okay, Hermione?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm fine."

The look on his face showed he didn't believe her.

"Really, I'm fine. I just...it...You."

"Me?"

"Yes. You were dead."

He blinked and then snapped his fingers. "Ah, I forgot about that. Sorry. Yes, I bet it's quite a shock. Sorry."

"No, it's fine."

They were quiet for a bit, just watching each other. Hermione still didn't have anything to explain why Sirius was alive and talking to her. He looked very spry for someone who'd been dead. Much more clean cut than when she'd seen him in Grimmauld place. His face was freshly shaved and his hair, while still long, wasn't nearly as wild. There was a new sense of life in his eyes that he'd lost before, locked up as he was. His clothes were richer, but she attributed that solely to the Malfoys and their preferences. No doubt, Narcissa Malfoy had thrown a fit of some kind to keep her cousin cleaned up, if only to make her house look better. The thought of it was rather funny, actually.

"Are you really okay?"

She realized her gaze had drifted downward when she had to lift it back to his face. This time, she didn't answer right away and when she did, it felt as if it were exploding from her body.

"Magic can't bring back the dead!" she cried, jumping to her feet. "Nothing can! You were dead, Sirius!"

"Um." He blinked a little. "Technically, I was half dead."

Hermione stared at him with no comprehension.

"See, I was still here and my body was still here, we just weren't...er...Together...Or something..." He trailed off sheepishly. "Narcissa explains it better. She's the one who did it."

Somehow, that didn't make the girl feel any better. If her friend that she had mourned was now a zombie controlled by the Malfoy Head...

"See, the Veil doesn't kill people and I was cursed, but it didn't kill me, but living things can't survive wholly behind the Veil and..." He stopped again and sighed. "I really don't get it."

"Does she have power over you?"

Sirius stared at her as if the possibility had never crossed his mind. "No."

Hermione let out a soft, shuddering breath. His eyes sparked with sudden knowledge.

"Oh Merlin, you thought...Hermione, I'm not a zombie. I'm not dark at all."

She nodded a bit, sitting down again. "You have to admit, the way it sounded..."

"Yeah...yeah, I see it now..." He shook his head, running a hand back through his thick hair. "Bloody hell. I never thought about that."

Hermione smiled weakly.

"I've learned to from being around H-" her eyes went wide. "Harry. Harry is here."

"Yep," Sirius replied and his gaze went a bit sad. "He's here. So's Remus. He's with Ron."

"What about Snape?"

"Yeah, the bugger's here too."

Hermione closed her eyes and pinched the skin between her eyes. She felt very tired, as if she'd run the gambit along with her emotions.

"Would you like something to eat?"

For the first time, she realized there was a table set on the other side of the room with food spelled to keep temperate. Hermione got up and went over. It wasn't until she saw the food that she became desperately hungry. Hermione started into the meal with fervor and Sirius picked a bit for himself, though he'd already eaten. It was nice, soft, and Hermione slowly decided that whatever had happened to Sirius, he was still his normal self and coming back from the dead wouldn't ever change that.

Her beliefs would never be so concrete now, but in a way, she liked that.

----

Wormtail was afraid of the dark. No, that wasn't quite right. He was afraid of what lived in the dark, what fed in the dark. The more horrifying thing was that he knew what those things were and was forced to deal with them on a daily basis. It absolutely terrified him, but he did it anyway. He did it for his Lord.

Even when he was on his knees in front of a murderous werewolf with gleaming teeth in human form, Wormtail would fulfill his master's wishes. This man was a valuable ally, after all. There was a need to...indulge him.

Wormtail didn't look at the little girl. He couldn't bring himself to, knowing it would make him wretch and offend the wolf. He tried very hard not to listen to her panicked and pained screaming nor the sounds of her limbs being torn away from her torso. He ignored the stench of blood and entrails. He ignored the feel of warm blood hitting his cheek and dripping down.

It was all for his master. This man was an ally and couldn't be offended.

Wormtail stayed until he was finished killing the child. He said nothing of the chunks of flesh mysteriously absent from the ripped corpse. A lot of the time, the wolf would leave kids alive, finding some savage pleasure in their continued suffering, but sometimes he just wanted the kill right there.

"Nice find, there," growled the wolf, lips curling back into the parody of a smile, fanged teeth shining with fresh blood. Wormtail tried not to tremble.

"M-my master wishes you to be comfortable," he warbled and the wolf's savage yellow eyes peered at him with amusement.

"Wishes more than that, I'd gather," the wolf retorted, smirking still. "You can tell him the gift's appreciated. I've got a lot of friends who'd be more than happy to get in on this now that he's back for real."

Wormtail nodded and bowed deeply as he started to back away. The horrible smell of the fresh kill was getting to be too much for him.

"I-I hope you have a g-good evening," he murmured as he backed into the doorway. The wolf turned, ignoring him as he looked back at the corpse. Wormtail quickly took his leave.

There was little in the dark as terrifying as Fenrir Greyback.

----

It wasn't until lunchtime that every human occupant of Malfoy Manor met in the same room. There had been a ruckus when Ron found out exactly where he was now from Remus, but that had been smoothed over after a bit.

As before, Voldemort took his place at the head of the table with Narcissa and Snape at either side. The rest of the table was quite a bit more chaotic. Harry had tried for the seat next to Snape, but found Hermione and Ron looking at him expectantly to fill the seat between them. For a long few seconds, he simply stood there, staring at the chair as if to accuse it of ruining the balance, but finally he sat there anyway. Ginny smiled from Hermione's other side. Draco's expression was rather displeased at his mother's side. Remus and Sirius took it upon themselves to create something of a buffer between the two groups.

There was very little talk. The newcomers were caught between glancing at Harry and staring covertly at Voldemort. The latter didn't seem to care, nor found it to his level to pay attention to them further. The other adults did, however, watch the teens very carefully. They were, after all, distracting interlopers.

Narcissa couldn't help the stab of resentment for keeping the three in her home. She couldn't let them leave, not when they'd somehow figured out how to locate an unplottable home, but she most certainly didn't want them there. The tense line Harry's mouth had become didn't make her any happier. She'd been so sure that things were getting better, that we was stabilizing, that he was putting himself back together, and now it was all shot to hell. It was all she could do to be coolly polite to the guests.

Harry wasn't sure what was wrong with him. He sat stiffly between Ron and Hermione, listening to them not talking and not questioning, and felt trapped. He wanted to get up and run away. He wanted out. He wanted to sit by Snape. _Merlin_, he was messed up... Trying to distract himself, Harry stared down at his plate as he pushed food around. He wasn't hungry. It was like eating dinner alone with Voldemort; his stomach was tied up in knots and he felt like throwing up. The tension within everyone was eating him alive.

"Eat, Harry."

They were the first words anyone had spoken and Harry looked up. Snape stared back at him, his expression unworried. His voice had been firm, rather stern. Hermione, Ron, and Ginny stared at the man and then were even more shocked with Harry simply did as he was told. Hermione didn't want to think about what that might mean. There was an uncomfortable lump in her throat.

After Snape had taken it upon himself to break the silence, it was more uncomfortable than ever to go back to it.

"Your home is lovely," Hermione said suddenly, giving Narcissa a glance. The Malfoy gave a slight nod of her head.

"Thank you," she said politely, even if it was still rather cool. Hermione had known the moment they met in the Manor that Narcissa Malfoy hated her on sight. It would have bothered her, but Hermione liked Narcissa even less. The only redeeming quality she could see was that Narcissa hadn't thrown them out when they arrived.

"I can't help but notice the decorating."

"Lucius' mother was fond of redecorating. This was her last stint before she died."

"Well, it's very nice."

"Yes, I think so as well."

Ginny understood exactly what was going on. Narcissa and Hermione continued to talk about things that didn't matter, sizing one another up with their eyes more than their words. Ginny stayed out and simply watched, curious herself who would last longest. The men, predictably, had little idea at all what was happening, except for Voldemort and Snape from their various exercises in manipulation through lifetimes. Neither man paid much attention, however. The feud didn't include them and they certainly did not want to get between women and their quarrels.

"The china is extraordinary."

"My husband was quite proud of our collection. Fourteen sets in all."

"Lovely."

Harry was getting very, very annoyed. He hated it when people talked about stupid things, especially when it was obvious neither really cared in the first place. The longer he listened, the madder he got and he didn't even know why it grated him so much.

"The cups-"

Narcissa's voice cut out as the vary things she'd been about to talk about began to shake, along with the rest of the dishes. It took a full second for every eye to land on Harry. The boy's gaze were locked on his plate. The room was absolutely silent baring the rattle of china. After half a minute or so, the rattling settled, but no one moved or said anything.

Then Harry lifted his head and looked at Snape. "Can I be excused?"

"Yes," Snape replied without hesitation. Harry got up and left the table. The tenseness didn't ease at all. One by one, the teens finished up and left. Draco was the last, but only because he was absolutely sure that only he could find Harry. The three intruders didn't know this Harry well enough to. They couldn't, for they hadn't been here for the break.

Draco tailed them for a bit until he was sure they were just going to get themselves hopelessly lost. He then sought Harry out.

The still disturbed boy had gone to the den and sat down at the chess board. The pieces were set, but he hadn't made a move. Harry always played black. Draco sat down across from him without hesitation. He ignored the subtle way the pieces were shivering, not quite enough to rattle audibly. Making the first move, Draco started the game. The pieces stopped their shivering as Harry was given something to concentrate. Both ignored everything outside the game, never noticing the door being shut at some time and a ward placed on it so that no one could disturb them. The silencing charm that followed made sure they wouldn't hear the argument that broke out between Narcissa, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny over it all.

No, Harry and Draco simply played the game. Draco eventually won but Harry was already setting up another game. His eyes had a desperate intensity in them that bothered the blonde.

"Harry," he said, grabbing one hand wrapped around the black Queen. "Harry, stop it. You need to talk."

Harry stared at him and Draco didn't like the hint of betrayal in his gaze. Draco was breaking their unspoken contract and did it knowingly.

"It won't go away by playing chess," Draco said.

"It's nothing."

"If it were nothing, the pieces would be still."

Harry looked and sure enough, the pieces were rattling once more. They weren't very happy about it, either.

"I can sent them away," Draco offered as he had before. Harry didn't lift his gaze.

"They would just come back."

"I'll send them away every time."

"THEY'LL ALWAYS COME BACK!"

Draco stopped and really looked at him. Harry's slim shoulders were shaking, his eyes wild and panicked. His hands tightly gripped the edges of the chessboard with enough force that his knuckles were solid white. His bottom lip trembled, jaws clenched.

"What is wrong with me?" Harry whispered out and his voice was frustrated and angry and horrified. "Why can't I be happy that they're here? Why don't I want them here?"

"Harry-"

"SHUT UP, MALFOY!"

Draco's lip curled back as pain struck through his chest and then he stood, slamming his hands down upon the table. "Don't take out your frustrations on me, Harry Potter! Yeah, you're a little wrong in the head, but that's no excuse for abusing me!"

Harry stared at him as if he didn't even recognize the boy in front of him. A stab of worry got past Draco's rage but before he could take back what he'd said, Harry stood.

"Wrong in the head," he said in a very quiet, deadened voice.

"Harry, I didn't mean-"

"Yes, you did, or you wouldn't have said it."

Draco almost groaned and hit himself for screwing things up. "I didn't. I just mean that your mind's…It's…"

"Wrong. Yes. I get it."

"Shut up and let me say something!"

Harry gave him a dead stare. Draco sighed and raked a hand back through his hair.

"You're broken, Harry. We all know that. You know that. But you were getting better, and then they showed up," he said, trying to make the other understand. "They're wrecking things before we could even fix them."

"Fix me, you mean."

"Yes." No point in denying it now. Harry's eyes narrowed but he didn't say anything. "Yes, Harry, fix you. Because right now, you're broken and you have been since Snape took you from those damned muggles. I'm not even sure you were right before that."

Harry's gaze fell to the chessboard he was still holding onto tightly. Abruptly, he let go and backed away, knocking over his chair. Draco watched but didn't move to follow him.

"Harry, none of us really expect you to be normal-"

"Of course not." His voice was far too calm and not at all in line with how he was shaking. "I'm Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived. Why would I ever be normal?"

Draco sighed softly and slowly approached him, like one would a cornered animal. Harry didn't look at him.

"Doesn't matter if I asked for it. I've bloody got it, now don't I? I might as well have asked to have my parents murdered, to be put in a house with muggles who hated and beat me, to put everyone I've come to care for in danger just by living, to-"

Harry's voice choked off as Draco pulled him into his arms. He was shaking badly, face pressed hard into Draco's shoulder as if trying to suffocate himself. Draco gently pet his hair and tried very hard to ignore the lump in his throat and Harry's ragged breathing as the other wizard fought to get himself back under control.

"You can't do this, Harry," Draco said very softly. "You can't break even more. You can't revert. It's time for you to pick up the pieces and be strong again."

"I don't want to be strong," Harry choked out bitterly.

"Yes you do," the blonde replied. "Otherwise, this wouldn't bother you so much."

Harry snorted and Draco felt a bit of fondness towards the sound. Yes, Harry was broken, but he was fixable. That was the important part.

----

He would never know how the threads of control had started breaking. The fine bits of careful mastery he had crafted so lovingly long ago were growing brittle and weak, breaking off completely one by one. He wasn't sure what to do now. The work lay unfinished. It wasn't time to move on Pettigrew just yet. Not yet.

He had always been a very patient man, carefully keeping himself until it was just the right time when all came to fruition. This had been his way since childhood and continued his entire adult life, long as it had been. And only now did he even imagine moving his pieces to checkmate sooner than anticipated.

Thinking long and hard, he tried to find another solution, a small bandage upon the gash in his plan that would sooth it for now and allow things to happen in their good time, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that would be impossible. Things had changed too rapidly. Losing the boy had been bad enough, but there were replacements, he knew. He always had backup plans if, in the very unlikely event, the first failed. Such was the nature of his masterful mind.

However, losing Tom, for he knew that it was happening, made irreparable changes in the way the world was progressing and it was no longer going how he wanted it to go. That irritated him more than anything he'd encountered. He was nothing if not obsessed with control. This he knew and worked to make sure it didn't interfere with his plans.

He knew that without Tom, he would have to start from scratch. It galled him, but was necessary. Therefore, it was for that reason that he arrived at Azkaban for a private and off the record meeting with one Lucius Malfoy. The younger man managed to give him a cocky grin, but Lucius had not been made to survive Azkaban for long. He was running thin.

"I thought you might come," Lucius murmured, resting his head on one hand. "You always did come to me when things went sour."

"Then I suppose you also know what I'm going to ask of you?"

Gray eyes narrowed, but he didn't rise to the barb. "How would I ever guess to the greatness within your thoughts?"

"Ah, flattery…" He ignored the way Lucius' words had actually made him feel, that hint of savage happiness that at least one person in this world knew the full extent of his genius. Oh, many feared and loved him equally, but only Lucius knew of anything beyond that and only Lucius could truly respect the power within him.

"What would you have me do?"

"There will be another time and place for me to divulge that," he replied, smiling at the frustration that crossed Lucius' gaze. He waited a moment before realization replaced it and then smiled wider.

"Then I will wait," Lucius murmured, lips quirking in an answering smirk.

"Wonderful. Good day, Lucius."

He got up. Lucius stayed seated, as per the rules of Azkaban.

"Good day."

----

_He liked it when things went his way without him having to lift a finger. He watched, amused at how the boy was dealing with the grand world of magic. As it was obvious that Tom had not grown up in a magical family, the child didn't bother hiding it, even when his own housemates beat and humiliated him. Funny, how very cruel children could be… _

_He knew it was only a matter of time before Tom's resentment and Slytherin mind would think up a solution to rid himself of such annoyances. Sometimes, he would sense the boy after hours in the library, reading by dim wand light to learn more. Tom already knew one of life's greatest lessons: knowledge was power and power made every bit of difference. Tom spent his entire first year learning how to gain that power. _

_He couldn't have been more pleased with the boy if he'd coached him himself. _

_This need to prove himself, show the damned magic-borns that he was just as good, no, better, was perfect. Absolutely perfect. In no time at all, Tom would rise to the top and begin his long journey towards something great. _

_That was what he told himself, anyway, when he heard of visits the boy made to the hospital wing. He tried very hard to ignore the small voice in the back of his mind that wondered if he was doing the right thing. _

_And then he remembered that the ends justified the means and felt better. _

----

A/N: Ah…This came friggin' quick. I dunno why… We've pretty much hit the half way mark now, by the way. Yup.

**Acknowledgements**

THIS IS NOT GOING TO BE A GINNY/HARRY FIC! …Gods. Don't you people know me better than that? Anyway, Ginny isn't going to betray Hermione that easy. She's just kind of muddled right now. Besides, Harry isn't sure he wants to be in the same room as Ginny at the moment, much less anything more.

I'll take those cookies, Aisling-Siobhan…I lurve cookies… And from you, too, DestinyEntwinements. I wondered where you went… And Slayerq2000, you suck up soooooooo well. I lurve you. ::hugs::

Harry and Tom are going to have a nice long talk next chapter. Expect awkwardness. I'll say that Harry probably won't find out about Tom being his father for a while yet.

About Dumbledore… Well. Um. I had something good, but I forgot it. He makes me that angry. Anywho, glad to find fellow Dumbledore dislikers, if not haters. Dumbles is FAR from done in his manipulations and Lucius's involvement in the newest plans, as well as past ones, is still not quite clear but will be later on.

Cheers.

_Conditions Met: (because I forgot last time)_  
1. Voldemort must be Harry's father  
**2. Severus eventually is loyal to Voldemort (unfinished) **  
3. Sirius comes back  
4. Black and Lupin side with Harry  
5. Dumbledore is the actual bad guy


	20. Goosey, Goosey, Gander

**Another Life**

**Warnings:** Yaoi/Slash, Angst, DARK themes, Backstabbing, Incest, Yuri/Fem-slash, and other various nastiness. Hard R rating.  
**Disclaimer:** Ain't mine.

**Chapter 19  
Goosey, Goosey, Gander**

Voldemort felt oddly nervous. It wasn't the same kind of nervousness that had prevailed over the dinners he'd shared with the boy, but more of a dread within the pit of his stomach. The changes going through his mental state troubled him immensely, but feeling such a keen fear for the first time in decades brought an uneasy nausea. It was so quiet that his own breathing sounded far too loud.

Harry appeared to feel none of this and stared at him with determined and cold green eyes. Apparently, having the upper hand (as small as it might have been) sat well with the boy. Voldemort felt oddly proud of that.

"Do you still plan to commit muggle genocide?" Harry asked without preamble. Voldemort blinked a little but said nothing. "I have already said I would kill you were the answer to that question yes. I have no qualms about doing so."

Somehow, hearing those cold words from the mouth of his son chilled the Dark Lord to the bone.

"I won't allow for any more senseless killing."

Voldemort couldn't help but see Lillian in Harry's determined expression. It was that resemblance that forced him to answer truthfully. "I do believe muggles to be inferior."

"That isn't what I asked," Harry snapped.

"What do you expect from me, Harry?" Voldemort asked quietly and there was a little surprise in those green eyes. "My hate of muggles will not diminish simply because I have lost the drive to kill you. The two ideas are not linked."

"Will you continue killing them?" the boy ground out and sounded quite irritated.

"If it serves my purpose, I will do anything."

"What's your purpose?"

Voldemort opened his mouth and then found he had nothing concrete to say. For years, he had worked on the single idea of total supremacy over both muggles and wizards alike, a purification of the world for the betterment of all with himself as leader. But now, the ideas weren't as clear anymore. He didn't know what had changed, but something very fundamental had and now everything was confused and unsure.

Anger filled Harry's gaze as he stood from his chair. "Do you mean to tell me that this whole thing, the killing, the pain, the suffering, that it was all done on some sick _whim?!_"

There was no answer and that only seemed to enrage the boy further.

"I can't believe this! You petty bastard!" Harry roared. "You're ludicrous! I thought that if there was a plan then there had to be some kind of sane thinking behind it, twisted as it might be, and then I find...I find _this_ instead... I never imagined one could feel cheated by their enemy."

He sat down hard and stared at his own hands, stunned. "You're a bloody idiot. Why hasn't someone killed you yet?"

"They've tried," Voldemort murmured absently. He rested back into his chair and sighed softly. "Harry, a lot of things have changed in the last few weeks. Things I thought were sure and right have now become muddled in such ways that I can't be sure what to think. It isn't that I never had a purpose. I think, instead, that it has begun to change and I haven't quite figured out what it's changing to."

Harry lifted his eyes and glared at him. "Well that's all well and good for _you_."

Voldemort had nothing else to say so they fell into silence. It lasted a long while, Harry staring at his hands and Voldemort watching him do so. The fire crackled and sparked beside them and cast an odd light on the boy that made him look older somehow.

"My father was hero," Harry said suddenly without looking up. Voldemort felt an unpleasant tightening in his chest because he knew who the boy was talking about. "He was a good man and did what was right, even when it meant putting himself in danger. He fought you with everything he had. He died trying to save me and Mum. People say I look like him, that I act like him, but if that were true, one of us would be dead right now."

Harry looked at him and those familiar eyes shone with uncertainty, fear, and that strong will that made Voldemort's chest tighten even more.

"I wish I could be more like him," Harry said softly. "If I were, this wouldn't confuse me. I would kill you and not be affected. I would go back to Dumbledore and be welcomed with open arms. I would be the hero I'm suppose to be. But I'm not like him. I'm scared and confused and nothing like him at all. Why can't I kill you?"

"Why can't I?" Voldemort echoed just as gently. Harry said nothing as he stood and pulled out his wand. He lifted it, aimed between Voldemort's eyes, and tried to summon up the will to kill this man, kill the monster that had murdered his parents and hurt countless others. His hand shook pathetically but he couldn't... couldn't cast. Shame burned within him, but he couldn't do it when he had even the slightest doubt in Voldemort's evil. The man had killed hundreds, thousands, perhaps millions, and Harry couldn't summon up the sureness to end his existence.

"I want you to die!" Harry whispered fervently and hated the way his voice shook. Voldemort sighed softly.

"Not yet," he murmured. "Not until we both are sure I deserve to die by your hand."

The wand was lowered. Harry stared at him numbly. "You do."

"If you were sure of it, I would be dead, Harry."

He knew it was true but he didn't want to believe that. It hurt less.

Voldemort dismissed him, though Harry had asked for the meeting, and the boy left quickly. Voldemort stayed and started to think, for there were many things the conversation had made clear needed to be thought about.

----

Wormtail was not particularly surprised when the voices told him before anyone else about Lucius Malfoy's escape from Azkaban. The voices had an uncanny knack for knowing things. He was, however, surprised when Malfoy didn't come back to them. He simply disappeared and that was worrisome. Malfoy was a powerful wizard and a master manipulator. Still, the voices told him all was well, so Wormtail attempted to not think about it. He waited until reports left the ministry about the escape to inform his Lord, as he didn't want to bother him unnecessarily. The voices hadn't been wrong before, but one never knew.

He always felt such guilt over doubting them.

His Lord had been bothered by the news, more for Malfoy's disappearance than anything else. Wormtail was glad at least one person could worry guiltlessly over it. No order was given beyond a quiet search to be conducted, and that struck Wormtail as very odd. There was no anger in his Lord, no vehemence on bringing back Malfoy's head for deserting, as it seemed he'd done. No, the Dark Lord had been very calm and cold about it all. Uncharacteristically lacking hatred.

This did not sit well with Wormtail nor the voices that whispered to him in the night.

----

When Hermione tracked Harry down that evening, having gotten one of the house elves to direct her to his room, she couldn't help but notice the way he stood. Harry was in front of his window, looking out of the gardens as light dwindled into dark. His back was to her and her eyes trailed over his relatively thin but still somehow strong frame. He wouldn't ever be broad shouldered, but he was getting tall and slowly leaving behind the lankiness of childhood. His body was filling out, shifting ever so subtly into an adult's. Back straight, arms hanging relatively loosely, shoulders back, he seemed every bit the man she hadn't noticed.

Hermione wondered why she had never seen that before. With Ron, it was easy. She'd watched him grow and change, noting every difference with curiosity at first, then a growing appreciation. She was primarily homosexual, a secret she tried her hardest to keep, but she could still appreciate a strong body like Ron's. Harry, on the other hand, didn't have that. It wasn't that he had a particularly feminine frame, but he didn't exude the same raw masculinity of most boys she knew. Somehow, it was always tempered. After all, it had taken Hermione months apart to realize Harry wasn't a little boy anymore.

He finally turned and looked at her, the last rays of the sun casting an odd light on his green eyes. He was ragged, but healing. He strengthened with each day, she noticed, pulling back from that horrible depth of sadness and pain. His eyes hadn't quite regained the full fire yet, but it was there, waiting, building. His shaggy hair hid the scar completely and his eyes almost, but he hadn't made a move to cut it. It fit him, somehow. Different than the boy.

"Hermione," he greeted and there was a hint of confusion at her presence. Hermione smiled a bit and went to stand next to him, glancing out.

"I thought we could talk," she said. Harry didn't frown, precisely, but he didn't see all that happy at the prospect. "Harry, I want to know what happened. All of it. From beginning to end."

"But it's not the end yet," he murmured quietly. She sighed.

"I know. So tell me to now. I'll see the end myself."

He hesitated, green eyes guarded, and then began telling the tale. It took hours. Harry hadn't realized he had so much to say or that so much had happened. His memory was fuzzy in areas and there were some parts he tried to skip over as much as possible. Hermione always knew when he was doing that but didn't catch him on it. He was having enough of a time.

When he finished, it was very late. Star light played on Harry's messy hair and glinted off Hermione's glasses. They hadn't turned the lights on when the sun failed, but did move to sit on the bed at some point.

Harry felt drained and strangely empty inside. His chest refused to unclench and a raw pain filled him, as if he'd torn the scab off a healing wound. Somehow, even with this, he felt better. Hermione wiped her wet cheeks, but Harry hadn't cried. He felt oddly distant from everything.

They sat in silence a while, then Hermione left. She sought out Ginny's bed and though the sleepy girl didn't quite understand, she still wrapped Hermione up in her warmth. They stayed that way through the rest of the night.

----

Lucius Malfoy was not a happy man. He stood within the sterile walls of the safe house, hands pressed upon the sink as he peered at his own reflection. He was clean now, but still so ruined. Stringy blond hair fell in coarse, uneven lengths. Pale eyes ringed in bruised violet. Face gaunt and skin sickly pale.

"I look like Snape after falling into a vat of bleaching potion," he grumbled to the mirror. It didn't respond, as he'd threatened to smash it if it didn't stop prattling on at him. The thought of Snape turned Lucius's lips to a snarl. The traitor would die at his hands, he would make sure of that. Snape had turned from the true master and was therefore so more inferior than he'd ever realized. Of course, Snape didn't know the full truth, but Lucius wouldn't forgive him even that.

Lucius had no illusions over who he served. He'd been Dumbledore's dog for longer than he could remember, as had his father before him and so on. The Dark Lord was a pale comparison. Real power came from lying in the light with a smile on your face. He was rather proud to be the only one who really knew who and what Dumbledore was.

Fingers tightening on the porcelain, Lucius suddenly remembered a time not long ago when he had been strong enough to break such material easily in his fingers. Azkaban had weakened his body terribly and it would be months or longer before he gained the strength back.

That was Potter's fault.

His lip curled once more. Potter. Dumbledore still wanted to bring the brat back, but Lucius knew the boy was hopeless. He wanted to rip Harry Potter's head off with his bare hands. The stay in Azkaban, his physical weakness, the shame of being out thought by a child, all of it was Potter's fault. The boy would die and Lucius would make it last. Dumbledore could handle Voldemort; Potter was his.

Pushing away from the sink, Lucius forced himself to stop looking at the face he had to call his own. He left the bathroom and went to dress, as he was expecting his master to visit and wouldn't entertain the man naked.

----

Harry spent the next day thinking, keeping away from the other people of the manor as much as he could. He'd slept very little through the night after Hermione left and his dreams had been plagued with night terrors. Still, he felt an odd sense of peace now that he'd told someone the whole of his experience.

By noon, Harry realized there was a decision he had to make, but he didn't have enough information to make it. He'd weighed the actions of those around him, past and present, took in the rest that he knew, but there was a terrible lack for one person: the Dark Lord.

Before that summer, he could have easily made the decision. Too much had changed now. The main changes were in Voldemort himself, and it seemed even he didn't know the extent of them. The Dark Lord was confused and lost, something so strange for Harry to see.

He almost wished Voldemort was still trying to kill him. That would have been normal and Harry craved normalcy more now than ever before.

When it all became too much, Harry found his mind turning to Draco. It happened often now, since he'd 'awakened'. He didn't quite know when their… Well, he didn't know what to call what was between them and trying to quantify it made his head hurt, but it had changed and he didn't know why. What he did know was that he needed Draco now and that terrified him.

Harry had only needed one person before him. Growing up the way he had, he'd unconsciously become as independent as he could. Even Hermione and Ron, his best friends, weren't needed for him to survive. He struggled on his own when he could manage and was reluctant to reach out to others. Even touch was something he rarely sought. Something as little as the brush of a hand upon his arm was alien and shied from.

The beginning of the summer marked Harry's first time needing someone. It had been Snape, the man who took him in when he was his weakest, nursed him to health, and then continued to care. Harry had been terrified when he was separated from Snape. Even his altered mental state at the time didn't disguise that. What scared Harry even more was the great relief he'd felt when he knew Snape was safe and with him and would not leave his side again. Harry didn't know how to deal with that. He was so scared these days.

And now, there was Draco. Cocky, sarcastic, headstrong Draco, who had all the personality traits of a Slytherin and the bullheadedness of a Gryffindor enough to put himself in danger. Draco would be the death of himself and Harry felt cold when he imagined it, which was more often than was healthy.

If Draco died…

Harry shut his eyes tightly, covering them with one hand.

If Draco died…

He knew it was inevitable. He knew that Snape was the same way. The man had already thrown his life on the line for him so many times and had said he'd do it again in a heartbeat. But Draco was different than Snape. Draco was...

_If Draco died…_

Harry found himself in Snape's rooms. The older man didn't seem surprised, nor did he ask about the sudden paleness of Harry's face. He was working on a new potion formula, some kind of improved healing draught, and ignored Harry, for he knew the boy would speak in his own good time. Harry sat on the edge of the bed with his legs drawn up under him and that book of nursery rhymes in his hands, though he wasn't reading the much loved words.

"Who is my enemy?" the boy asked after an hour or so of silence. Snape set down his quill and looked over at him.

"That is for you to decide." Green eyes lifted and settled on his face. "Your enemy is someone who threatens you and yours."

"Voldemort-" Harry paused and looked down again, thin fingers tracing over an illustration of a cat and an owl in a boat. "Voldemort stop trying to kill me."

"Then, I suppose he is no longer your enemy."

Such a strange notion, but Harry knew it to be true now. "The Death Eaters might still try."

"Probably."

"Then they're my enemies. Voldemort is their leader but he isn't." Harry continued to lightly trace the picture, eyes following his fingers' progressions. "Professor, who is your enemy?"

Snape was quiet a moment, thinking about that seriously. He folded his hands and rested his head upon them, staying still after for a long while. Finally, he uttered out, "Albus Dumbledore."

Harry looked at him but wasn't all that surprised. "Why?"

"Because he is a manipulative mastermind with an agenda reaching back before my own birth," Snape replied quietly. "I don't trust that, nor do I trust his actions in the last few years. Dumbledore is a very powerful man and has done much good for our society, but even he is not above question and he has done some very questionable things."

There was a little nod from the boy before a response came. "Dumbledore is also Voldemort's enemy."

"That's correct."

"Is that why you sent me to him?"

Snape's gaze flickered to the papers on the desk without his consent and he quickly refocused them on the boy. The hesitance was seen and acknowledged but Harry said nothing of it.

"I knew that Lupin and Black were being held here," Snape began softly. "I also trusted Narcissa to treat you well. She's particular about guests. If there was anyone who could care for you, it was those three. However, I also knew the Dark Lord would not harm you."

"How?"

There was knowledge in those black eyes, a knowledge that was heavy and biting, but Harry wanted it anyway. However, he knew quite well that Snape would keep it from him. They were all afraid of regression, Harry even more so, and whatever that knowledge was, it could be potentially damaging. Harry understood that, though a fire within him burned to know.

"I just did," Snape said, his tone a little sharp. This was to be accepted and not questioned. Harry wanted to anyway, but he didn't. Not yet. Soon, though.

"Can I trust him?"

"That is also your decision," Snape said quickly, sighing a little after. Harry looked down at the book, fingers still.

"You trust him. At least enough put me near him." He didn't question the fact that Snape cared for his safety and Snape didn't deny it. "Remus and Sirius are wary of him, but they say he's been good to them. Narcissa is congenial with him."

"And your friends?"

"They're wary, but they haven't been around him much. Not enough to know for sure." Snape was rather proud of Harry's use of his own brain for the whole thing. The boy was smart, he knew, but he'd never really shown such before. Harry turned back to stare at him as he came to a decision. "I'll trust him for now. Until I can find out what Dumbledore is really after."

"So you've lost trust in the Headmaster…"

"He kidnapped me. Or as good as. He left me with the muggles even after I told him what was going on. He's manipulated me for as long as I've known him and likely longer than that," Harry said with a strange strength behind his voice. Snape was glad to hear it again. "I can't trust someone like that. He doesn't have my best interests in mind, only those of his plans, and he's never fully explained those."

Snape nodded. "Very good analysis. What do you propose to do with it?"

"I'm not sure yet. I have to talk to Voldemort first." Harry sighed a little, reaching up to tuck a little hair behind his ear. "Not that that's gone well before…"

"You have the initiative now," Snape reminded him, "and a well thought out reason for talking. Perhaps it will go better this time."

Harry nodded a little. "Yeah… but later. Is it okay if I stay here a while longer?"

"Just don't be loud and whiny," Snape responded with a roll of his eyes, as if the question had been rather stupid. Harry smiled a little.

Hours later, after a quiet dinner with the entire household gathered, Harry sought out Voldemort.

"I have something to say," he began. The Dark Lord nodded and they went to the study together, away from young, prying eyes. For a long few moments, they simply stood in front of each other before Harry found his strength again. "I want to know who you're fighting and why."

Voldemort seemed a little surprised at that. He'd given the matter great thought before, once Harry left after their less than pleasant conversation. However, though he'd gotten a good deal of it straight, there was much still out of sorts.

"I fight Dumbledore," the Dark Lord murmured, frowning softly. "My reasons are muddled and confused, but that is the one thing I'm sure about."

Harry nodded a little, folding his arms over his chest. "I've decided that he's my enemy, at least for now. I need to corner him and make him tell me everything. Explain why he… why everything happened. I have to know."

"I believe our causes are similar enough for a collaboration," Voldemort said slowly, chancing it. The boy stared at him, his eyes guarded and untrusting. There was a long pause before he spoke.

"Forgive me if I don't shake your hand," Harry said coolly as he gazed towards the Dark Lord. Voldemort nodded his head, accepting what he'd been offered.

Thus began the partnership of Harry Potter and the Dark Lord.

----

_It happened in second year. He didn't find out until the Slytherin hierarchy suddenly changed. Where once the small, half-blood boy was left at the end of the table, to be pushed upon the floor or flung at the door, suddenly Tom was given a wide berth and respectful glances. There was no mention of his heritage ever again. _

_He wondered curiously what might have happened, but there was little knowing. Even the Head of House had no clear idea, except that it would have had to be big, but also extremely subtle. In the coming months, he watched as the distance was minimized and a hand picked few clambered for Tom's attention. He bore it all with a superior look, half amused and half accepting that this was his place. Even the upperclassmen treated him with respect. _

_The boy was very, very smart, he decided. He could have just looked at his class scores to know that, but it wasn't just book smarts he meant. Tom had the makings of a manipulative genius and he would guide him to that end as surely as possible. _

_Still, he wondered. How cruel could this young boy become? How far would he have to push to make him the tool he needed? Ponderings of an insane man, but they nagged at his attention as he continued to go about his duties. _

_The boy was perfect, but a diamond in the rough. He would guide the polishing, but it was ultimately up to Tom to become what he needed to be._

----

A/N: Grah. Pulling fucking teeth. Anywho, at least Wimpy!Harry is gone now. Yes, our dear Harry has grown his backbone back. Thank the fucking gods. He was annoying the hell out of me. Also, we finally finished condition 2. And I'm sorry it took so long to get this one out. It was actually done a few weeks ago, but FF.N wouldn't let me upload it for some reason.

Lastly: I NEED A BETA! ...Because I suck. If you're interested, drop me an email. I HAD someone lined up, but then they couldn't do it. If possible, I'd like someone to beta the entire story...but I'd be happy just getting the current chapters done.

**Acknowledgments:**

Instead of answering each person individually, I'm gonna summerize my responces to yor reviews here. That way, I don't have to repeat myself

I AM NOT ABANDONING THIS FIC! I have pledged to finish it and by the gods, I will!

Disclosed my plot? LAUGHS Like hell I did! There's still waaaaay more I haven't said a thing about, Barranca.

As to the thing between Harry and Draco... It's very strong. Neither of them wants to put a name to it and will likely be very stubborn. Whether they end up deciding to make this 'thing' be friendship or a relationship is up to them. However, it should be known that my three planned pairings have now been moved up to four planned pairings throughout the story. Only one has been mentioned, two are a bit iffy on whether they'll end up in here, and one will only show up at the very end. By the way, Ron and Draco will NOT end up together, dear Deadmen's Bells, so don't worry.

To me, this story isn't about ships and I'd rather people stopped asking about them. This story is about interpersonal relationships, most of which are NOT the romantic variety. I like romance as well as the next guy, but seriously people. Stop being so preoccupied over who end sup with who. THAT DOESN'T REALLY MATTER!

::wants Ater's cookie!!:: I wub you!! Cookies, yay!

Yay, I've inspired more Dumbledore haters. Woot! My contribution to the world. As to cussing, seriously, I don't mind. Cuss away, lol. I cuss worse than a sailor.

Lucius is an evil bastard but hey, I find that rather funny and sexy in an odd way. And I never said he wasn't involved in Tom's personality change.

The Nursery Rhymes: I actually don't remember them all. I have a huge book of Mother Goose that I look through when I finish each chapter and I find a rhyme that goes well with the theme.

As to the pace I set...Actually, it's rather slow in my opinion...::sthrugs:: Oh well. It goes as fast as it wants to.

Well, that's all. Onto the next chapter...

_Conditions Met:_  
1. Voldemort must be Harry's father  
2. Severus and Harry both eventually are loyal to Voldemort  
3. Sirius comesback  
4. Black and Lupin side with Harry  
5. Dumbledore is the actual bad guy


	21. If Wishes were Horses

**Another Life**

**Warnings: **Yaoi/Slash, Angst, DARK themes, Backstabbing, Incest, Yuri/Fem-slash, and other various nastiness. Hard R rating.  
**Disclaimer:** Ain't mine.

**Thanks to Ebony Rayne for beta-ing!**

**Chapter 20  
If Wishes Were Horses**

Ron felt a little lost. It had been such a relatively laid back, quiet place since he got to Malfoy Manor and now it was set into action. He, Ginny, and Hermione were confined to a wing of the place and unable to leave.

For not the first time, Ron realized just how much of a chasm had formed between his life and Harry's. Harry was included in whatever was going on because he was _Harry_ and Ron, of course, was not because he was _Ron_. The only heads up he'd gotten was a short message from the boy delivered by a house elf.

"_Made an alliance with Voldemort. Stay put."_

Of course, Ron had wanted to march right to him, punch him once, and then demand details, but the magical barrier at the end of the hall refused to admit him. When he and the girls had tried using their wands to get rid of it, they found that the wands had been spelled dormant. They were powerless.

Ginny had not taken that well.

Ron was now alone, sitting down cross-legged in front of the barrier and glaring at it. Hermione was with Ginny in the wreck the girl had made of her room before she calmed down. Ron didn't care to know what was happening beyond that. He just glared at the barrier.

If there was ever a side character in a story, he knew he was it. At least, he'd become so recently. This just proved it. Ron didn't know what he'd done or not done to deserve that. Actually, he was pretty sure it wasn't anything he'd done. It was all Harry and it really pissed him off. Ron didn't like being a cast off. It wasn't fair, not when he'd followed Harry through so much.

He'd thought they could do anything together. A flash of memory, Harry curled up small and thin and miserable in the loft of the Burrow- Ron closed his eyes and tried desperately not to think about that. Harry was okay. Marginally. Maybe. Hopefully.

Ron wondered if the lying to himself was why Harry had left him behind this time.

----

"He will be working with us for mutual benefit."

Wormtail didn't know what to make of the boy staring back at him. Big but maturing green eyes, messy, too long hair, lanky limbs, small shoulders…. Harry Potter had grown in the last year or so. Or something. Wormtail wasn't actually sure how long it had been since he saw the boy. He was frankly shocked at why he was seeing him now.

There was hate in those emerald eyes. Hate Wormtail remembered and understood and felt in return. Mature the boy may be, but Harry Potter was still young. The voices reminded him of that at the beginning, when his hands had begun to shake. His hands always shook uncontrollably when Wormtail was nervous.

Harry Potter, with so much power in that little body, intimidated him almost as much as his Lord. Wormtail would never admit that to anyone but the voices, of course. No, instead, he sat across from the Boy Who Should Be Dead and _why was he not dead?! Anything_ but sitting at Lord Voldemort's side.

The boy must have drugged him or spelled him or- No. No, it was insulting to his Lord to think that. Voldemort had a reason for everything he did and keeping the boy alive and on his side must be part of a big plan. The voices cautioned him to be careful, however. There was still something amiss, that was for sure. Watery eyes lifted from the boy to rest on Voldemort's face, only a moment before they dropped.

"Of course, my Lord," he murmured shakily as he tried not to think of how long it had taken him to get over his shock and answer. There would have usually been pain for that, but the Dark Lord was still.

"I want you to spread the word," Lord Voldemort said with cold eyes. "Harry Potter is not to be touched."

"Yes, my Lord…"

Wormtail would indeed give this message to the rest. Perhaps they would be happy to have the all-consuming task finally set to rest so that others could be taken up, but he doubted it. There would be whisperings of weakness after this… but he would still do what his Master asked of him.

He was dismissed soon after and was glad for it. Wormtail couldn't stand the hot flash of shame that flew through his body every time he looked into those green eyes, no matter how much the voices tried to soothe him.

Voldemort glanced at Harry when he felt the boy give a shiver beside him. Harry's face was strong, as he'd never show weakness in front of the Dark Lord, but there were visible signs of faint stress. Voldemort wondered why he'd never noticed just how much the boy hated Peter Pettigrew. It was clear now but he'd never taken heed before.

"Harry?"

The boy glanced up at him but then just got up from his chair. "I'm gonna go let Ron and the others out."

Voldemort almost stopped him. He watched Harry's back until he closed the door behind him. Voldemort was not used to worrying. It was disconcerting and yet…. Somehow, he was almost happy to feel it. So strange, the odd new feelings and his own reactions to them…

"Tom Riddle may yet still live," he murmured to himself quietly.

Then he went to find Narcissa. There was work to be done. She was easy enough to find and smiled a little when he asked for some of her time. Strange how well they got on when only a few years ago, she had shivered in his presence. Had he not changed so much lately, this would have made him quite cross. Instead, he found it somewhat soothing.

"How can I help you, my Lord?" she murmured once he'd finished a silencing spell and other precautions against being found out.

"I need you to search out a list of items for me," he replied as he took quill to parchment and began to write. "It is of supreme importance that you work quickly and in absolute secrecy. This cannot be shared beyond the two of us. Understood?"

"Of course. I swear to it."

He finished writing and handed it over to her. "Be swift."

He should have said 'please' but the word felt very strange on his tongue in that instance. Narcissa didn't seem to care either way. She glanced at the parchment once, then folded it and stashed it into one of her pockets.

"I will leave at once."

He nodded and she left the study to get her affairs in order. Somehow, he felt very strange about having trusted this great task to her but then he realized that above all others, even his ever faithful Wormtail, he trusted Narcissa Malfoy the most.

Voldemort sighed a bit and went on to make plans.

----

The first attack resulting in the deaths of the three Dursleys had been unexpected, but it put the Wizarding World in an uproar. Newspapers ranted about mental instabilities of the Boy Who Lived who was currently the Boy Who Could Not Be Found. They alleged at his involvement in the Dark Arts (which was completely false), his joining with the Dark Lord (which was actually true), his involvement in the deaths of his three muggle relatives (which was not really true either, but almost could be), and warned the general populous against consorting with the boy, were he to arrive on their doorstep. Thus armed, they waited for reports of Potter sightings that never turned up anything.

Molly Weasley was absolutely enraged. She ripped the paper to pieces and gave a horrible yelled snarl, cursing the reporters, the editors, the publishers, the entire company, and _then_ the Ministry for letting such dribble be printed in the first place. She started over a few times once she'd finished, raging around her kitchen as she absently cast some odd spells for cleaning and was barely able to keep from ripping out her hair.

She'd already been worried over the boy's safety, as well as her youngest two children and practically adopted daughter Hermione, but now her nerves were shot. She was tired of being scared. Now, all she wanted was to be angry, hateful, and to hurt something.

Luck was likely on the side of whoever might have come into her grips when a small beak began tapping at the window. Molly opened it to let the owl in before realizing just who's animal it was in the first place.

"Pig!" she shrieked, which only startled the tiny owl and sent him flying crazily around the room. Molly caught him soon enough and took the letter before giving him a treat. She could scarcely keep her hands from shaking as she tore open the envelope. That scrawled handwriting…. She almost cried.

_Hello Mum, _

_Sorry it took so long to write. Ginny, Hermione, and me are fine. I can't tell you where we are and Pig can't be traced either, but we're okay. Harry's here too, and Remus. There are other people but I can't tell you who yet. Harry said so. _

_I know you're probably really mad, but Harry said you needed to hear from us._

Bless that boy for being at least a little thoughtful…. Then Molly remembered how he'd looked in her home only a little while ago and swallowed thickly.

_You can send word back with Pig. He'll find the house. Just don't send a howler, okay? Our 'host' would probably get mad. We're going to be getting school stuff but Harry says we might not be going back to school. He says it might not be safe. Our host says she'll get tutors if we have to stay here instead._

That struck Molly as very odd. What sort of person would have the money to get tutors for four young people and would do it for children not their own? She frowned with puzzlement. Just who had the children run to?

_Well, I think that's all. Oh, Ginny says she loves you. I guess I do to._

Blasted boy and his manly pride.

_Hermione says she'll make sure we get to the books. Slave driver. Oh, and Harry says hi and watch out for Dumbledore. He's up to something. _

_-Ron_

And that was it. So much time worrying and fretting, and suddenly her babies were just fine and her son had the audacity to sound as if nothing had happened. She barely even noticed the comment on Dumbledore.

Arthur found her still weeping when he got home.

----

Harry stared at the clouds. They were dark and dangerous, rolling quickly to cover the sun and leave the gardens in a half light. The air felt electrified and wet, thick in his throat. He felt like a wild animal, waiting for the storm he could feel in his very bones and wondering if this would be the one to finally off him.

The storm wasn't just physical. Across the Wizarding World, a similar one was brewing but Harry tried not to think about that. Instead, he just watched the building clouds and the faint bits of lightning within them.

There was a sick feeling in his stomach. Dread or shame, he wasn't sure which. It didn't matter anyway. He knew what he had to do. Now, he just had to figure out how to do it.

He refused to use Death Eaters. Voldemort could keep his lot; Harry didn't want them. He didn't need cruelty backing him. What he needed were people he could trust and ones that would actually listen to him.

Snape was the first name he thought of. The man was a Death Eater, but Harry felt more than anything that Snape would rally behind him instead of the Dark Lord. He had to believe that. Fragile as he knew he still was, he needed Snape's support.

Remus and Sirius were given, but he would have to make them listen. They were adults and adults all had the habit of dismissing whatever he said when they thought they knew better. He would have to convince them of every little action until they got used to his leadership.

Harry was hesitant to use his friends. Not that Hermione, Ron, and Ginny weren't capable, but he wondered if he could stand to see them hurt at all. They were children-

The thought stopped and he blinked as lightning crossed the sky. _He_ was a child, too. Harry sighed a little. If he was going to expect adults to defer to him, he couldn't think so hypocritically. Hermione would be useful in helping him plan. Ginny as well, and for the actual doing. Ron was always a welcome moral support at his side. He would keep them here, behind the lines, to be the support team he needed. Never in danger.

His thoughts strayed to Draco before turning away sharply. _No_. He couldn't even imagine keeping Draco at his side, to face the dangers. Ever. Harry wasn't sure what the result of Draco's death would be, but he knew he'd never survive it. Draco would stay in the manor and be _safe_.

'Bullshit,' murmured a horrible little voice in the back of his head and though Harry fought it, he knew trying to keep Draco from doing whatever he wanted would be met with utter failure. If anything, the blonde would go against his wishes just to piss him off.

His stomach tied in knots as he suddenly got the mental image of the boy laying still on the ground, dead eyes staring upward…. He swallowed. He had to minimize Draco's involvement as much as he could.

There were only a few others who flitted through his mind after that. Most, he dismissed immediately. Others, he put into consideration. He found himself almost unable to place any of them into battle positions within the plans. That, too, was futile. Almost every person he knew had a strong enough personality and conviction that trying to stop them was idiotic. Minimize the damage because he couldn't prevent it.

Harry closed his eyes as the first raindrops finally began to fall. Things were building and he had to be patient. It was the only way to keep the people he loved alive and well.

----

Dumbledore interlaced his fingers as he looked sorrowfully at his gathered followers. There were more people who would come to his call if he really tried, as he had real control of the Ministry when he wanted, but for now, this smaller team would be just fine.

He hesitated a moment, however. Molly Weasley's eyes bore into his face. She wasn't looking for reassurance. She wasn't waiting for his divine word. She just stared with an unreadable expression. He decided to worry about her loyalties later.

"I'm afraid I have very disconcerting news," Dumbledore murmured, sighing softly. "Harry has fallen into Voldemort's hands."

There were a few gasps, some denials, then he felt more than saw a sudden resolve to save their hero. After all, only Harry could rid them of the Dark Lord. The prophecy spoke so.

"For once, the papers are actually telling truth. We cannot expect that Harry hasn't been turned."

"That's a lie," Molly snarled as anger flamed in her eyes. Dumbledore wondered idly just what had set her upon him.

"You can't honestly think _Harry_ would…would…" Tonks couldn't finish the thought.

"We can't ignore the possibility," Dumbledore said softly, looking at them all directly. "The Dark Lord is very powerful and though Harry is singularly special in regards to his strength of will, he is only a child. He can be hurt, killed, and at the least imprisoned. He may not have willingly turned, but we can't be sure of his loyalties now."

"That boy can fight impervious," Moody grumbled, arms folded as his magical eye flit about.

"Be that as it may, there are other ways to put someone under your will," Dumbledore replied. He suddenly looked very old to them, just the most subtle shifts to his carrying and expression in a way he had perfected. "We all know how fragile Harry is right now."

There was silence. Even Molly's gaze dropped in remembrance. Dumbledore watched her and began to face the possibility that she would desert him. Hopefully, he had a firm enough grip on her husband to keep him.

When he released them later, he felt positive. Molly was little consequence to him and, to tell the truth, Arthur was the same. In any case, his plans were forming and maturing. He went to bed in peace and with a smile on his face.

----

_Slytherin house was in a state of mourning. It wasn't obvious enough who had died and which student was the most pained, but all could feel the strange quiet that had taken them all. Only he knew that the grief belonged to a boy barely sixteen named Tom Riddle. _

_The murders of Tom Riddle, Sr., and his parents were not advertised to the Wizarding World. Instead, it was through Tom himself that anyone knew of them. The boy was sullen and quiet, forgoing most of his leadership responsibilities over the house in favor of solitude. The boy had just found out about his muggle family when they were swept away from him. _

_He wondered if, perhaps, he should have let the muggles live. However, he knew it wasn't possible. The murders had to happen for the boy's soul to split. That Tom hadn't realized he was, in fact, the murderer, almost amused him. Almost. There was little true amusement from the abomination he'd just committed. _

_Still, the gears were turning, the story twisting exactly as he'd needed it to. The boy was scared now. Through his grief, he could sense the stirrings of fear and thought. Tom would not allow himself to die like that. _

_Planting the book was easy; making sure Tom found and read it had been a bit to chance, but his faith was well rewarded. The seeds planted, he sat back and watched. Careful manipulation brought the boy exactly where he wanted him. _

_Into the presence of Horace Slughorn and his big mouth. _

----

A/N: If anyone's wondering (and since I doubt anyone's heard it,) this chapter's rhyme goes as following:

If wishes were horses Then beggers would ride. If turnips were watches, I'd wear one by my side. And if "ifs" and "ands" Were pots and pans, There'd be no work for the tinkers!

I'm very sorry it took so long to get the new chapter out, but I ended up working more than I wanted this summer, then school started (I'm in my second year of college), I have to get my portfolio ready for an internship opportunity (homg, Disney animation studio, here I come!), and other various projects (original manga I'm writing, original stories I want to publish, getting art together for A-Kon in June, designing dresses for local swing dancers, etc.) And then… and then the seventh book came out. I haven't cried at a book since I was twelve. I bawled through quite a bit of this one and was pretty much inconsolable for three days after. I didn't even want to THINK about Harry Potter. Gods. That is so not cool. My man points are so few.

I'm not going to go into a rant about how much I hated the last chapter and other elements. What, did she get mad at all the characters and figured, hey, if I kill them, I don't have to write about them anymore! And gods, what she did to _Snape_…I don't think I'll ever be able to read that again. I've loved the man since I first started reading, nasty git that he was, and to have him end that way, thinking everything he had ever done had failed, that the boy he had protected for so long in Lily's memory was going to die anyway, I just…can't describe how horrible that made me feel. It wasn't fair, not when he had tried so hard to make up for his mistakes and not when he had loved that deeply.

The last chapter was a fucking cop out and an attempt to put a band-aid on a gaping wound. I'm still not okay about it. I'm sorry the chapter isn't longer, but the next bit will be rather involved and long.

Anyway…Enough harping. Review time:

Dumbledore is involved in why Lily couldn't stay with Tom. What he did or didn't do to her and Tom will come through in the story.

Harry will find out about his familial relationship with Voldemort in due time and I'll go ahead and say, it's not going to go well.

Hermione is gonna have to go a while before she's ready to "come out of the closet". She's got quite a few insecurities to work through first, least of all talking to her parents about it.

Wormtail's "voices", I can't say anything about. I will say that he's not under Imperius.

As to why this is Hermione/Ginny in this story: despite various plot related reasons I can't disclose, the main reason is that I'm not a Hermione fan. I like Ron quite a bit better and much as they like one another in the books, I can't see them as being happy with one another. Close friends, yes, but not happily married. They would fight and hurt each other and ultimately divorce. I want Ron to be happy because I love his character so much. Ginny, I don't have affinity for either, but I do respect her strength. I still can't see her being with Harry and their whole romance annoyed the hell out of me for its utter idiocy and lack of basis on Harry's part. It felt slapped together at the last second because obviously, Harry needed a girlfriend who wasn't going to cry on him (do not even get me started on Cho.) Now then, I may not like the girls, but I can see how they would compliment each other so I can see them having a viable relationship.

Well, see you next chapter.


	22. Pease Porridge Hot

**Another Life**

**Warnings:** Yaoi/Slash, Angst, DARK themes, Backstabbing, Incest, Yuri/Fem-slash, and other various nastiness. Hard R rating.  
**Disclaimer:** Ain't mine.

**Thanks to Ebony Rayne for beta-ing!**

**Chapter 21  
Pease Porridge Hot**

Molly Weasley had not sent a howler, but it might as well have been for the impact upon the children. Remus glanced over the edge of his book at them from where he sat in an overstuffed chair of the library. They were crowded at a small, round reading table, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny in chairs around, Harry in a stool he'd drug up between Ron and Hermione to look over their shoulders, and Draco standing over Ginny. Their expressions were mostly serious, (or a light form of sneer when Draco was concerned), and they talked in quiet, hushed tones to one another. Remus would have thought they were up to something, but the fact that they never gave him any furtive looks made him decide they were just having trouble deciding what they could and couldn't tell the Weasley matron.

Harry's left cheek was faintly purple along the cheekbone with yellow, green, and blue intermixed. Ginny had hit him hard enough to knock the boy to the floor when he finally released them the day before. He'd declined any sort of healing for it, figuring it could heal just fine on its own. Thankfully, Hermione and Ron hadn't added their own marks. Remus was rather sure that, like with Ginny, Harry wouldn't even attempt to cushion the blow for himself. He hadn't said anything on the matter, though Ginny now glanced at the bruising with a little regret. Remus doubted she would apologize and really, there wasn't a reason to. The children continued their quiet wonderings with Hermione writing this or that as the apparent designated transcriber.

There was a faint whistle at the door. Harry glanced up and gave a little wave before turning back to the other teens. Remus got up from his chair and found Sirius at the door, motioning him to come out. Wondering what his friend was up to, Remus headed out to the hall, closing the door behind himself.

"Malfoy's gone," Sirius began. "She slipped out last night. I think Voldie might be up to something."

"If he is, what can we do about it?" Remus replied, already thinking of what might have to be done to save the children.

"He's not being careful of us. He's ignoring us completely. Underestimating." Remus was idly surprised at Sirius's accurate observations. The man was thinking for once. "We can get to him now, while he's still preoccupied. Search his rooms, the studies, anywhere he goes."

"And if he discovers us?"

"We got lost." Sirius grinned widely. "He thinks we're stupid and harmless, Remus. We haven't been here long enough to know the place by heart."

Remus nodded a little, folding his arms over his chest. "Well…. We can try at least. Just be careful, okay?"

"Of course." Sirius smacked his hand against Remus's shoulder heartily before heading off on his way again. Remus watched him go and sighed a bit but started planning his own excursions. Sirius was right. Voldemort really was ignoring them and this was the only way they might come out on top.

Back in the library, Harry looked back from the closed door at his friends.

"Tell her to come," he said to Ron immediately. "He and your father. Your brothers if they can manage it."

Ron blinked a bit. "What? My family come here? Harry, _he's_ here! I don't care if he's been civil, I'm not bringing them into his hands!"

Harry sighed and shook his head. "I know it worries you but we need them. We need their support for what I have planned. I'll find a way to keep them safe- Ron, stop shaking your head at me!"

"You're a loony," Ron said, sitting back in his chair as he glared. "I don't care if it's you asking, I won't put my family in danger!"

"They're all _adults_!" Harry snarled back as he slammed his hands on the table and glared right back. "Tell them it's dangerous but give them the choice to come or not! If you aren't going to help me, _go home!_"

Ron's face went white and then red as he got up from his chair.

"Maybe I should," he said tightly.

"Ron," Hermione started, trying to smooth things over. Harry was too angry to think about what he was saying or doing.

"Then go already and stop wasting my time!"

Ron looked like he was going to say something, then shut his mouth with an audible click. His jaw was tight, face blazed red with rage, and his hands were fisted at his sides and shaking. Hurt flashed through the rage once or twice and then he turned and stormed out of the library. Hermione got up, giving Harry a worried look before she went after him. Harry sat down on his stool as Ginny slowly rose from the table and looked at him.

"You are a royal prat," she said and for a moment, Draco thought she might hit him (again) but she just stalked after the others and left the two boys alone. Draco sighed a bit and glanced at Harry before his stomach went into knots.

Harry panted softly as rage ran rampant through his body. His hands were shaking though he kept from clenching them. His chest felt tight, eyes burned, and he felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

"Why doesn't he trust me?" he finally exploded, jerking his angry gaze up to his last companion. "He knows I wouldn't do anything to put his family in real danger if I didn't have to! He _knows_ that!"

"Maybe," Draco conceded quietly. "Not that I care what comes out of Weasley's mouth, but you'd have done better if you'd only told him what you had planned."

Because Harry hadn't actually said yet. He'd come to them today with a heavy expression and they started making plans for something he wouldn't tell them about. Draco had seen how frustrated the others were getting when he asked questions they couldn't make sense of and wouldn't explain.

Harry just stared at him. Draco sighed a little.

"If you want Weasley to trust you, you're going to have to trust him first," Draco said sternly. Harry continued to stare. Then he looked down at his hands and willed them to stop shaking. Draco waited, sitting down in the closest chair.

"Fuck," Harry muttered after a while.

"Indeed," was Draco's reply. Harry kept staring at his hands.

"I _am_ a prat. No wonder he…" Harry sighed softly. "I have to fix this."

"I guess," Draco murmured with a shrug. "First, I'd tell him what this whole thing was about in the first place. The others, too. And me, of course. Actually, tell me first."

Harry pursed his lips. "I don't have everything figured out yet-"

"All the more reason to get help in the figuring."

Harry hated it when Draco was right.

"Damn it, Harry," Draco said suddenly, scowling at him. "It's okay to ask for help. It's okay to trust people. Hell, it's okay to be human for Merlin's sake. You're not a god. You're not an angel. You're a sixteen-year-old kid and it's time you realized that."

He met Harry's shocked expression with a tired sort of annoyance.

"Don't tell me it really _did_ go to your head…"

"No," Harry said quickly.

Draco nodded a little and flicked a bit of blonde hair behind one ear. "Good. Now go after the Weasel and make up before I decide to start berating your woefully lacking intelligence."

Harry started to say something, then thought better of it and just sighed. He got up and went after his friends and for some reason, that made Draco's chest go tight. He stayed in the library, alone. The quiet seemed to have a sound of its own that pounded through his head.

This was his place. He wasn't angry about it, really. It had _always_ been his place. Sometimes he had Crabbe or Goyle to at least fill the silence with inane babble, or Pansy to give him moon eyes, but really, he was far more used to this. He had no illusions about Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy. The moment it was advantageous they'd drop him. He'd known that the entire time.

Sometimes, he looked at Harry and those idiots he ran around with…and felt rather empty.

Draco shook his head. It was stupid to get worked up over something like that. He was a Slytherin. He didn't need dopey friends. He didn't even want them. That was for Gryffindors. All Draco needed was his resolve and a few pawns to use.

Leave the touchy-feely-lovey crap to someone else.

----

Dumbledore took a long look into the mirror. He saw shining eyes looking back, saw curly blonde hair around a charming face, saw fine-fingered hands rest upon his own shoulders. He _felt_ that, even though he knew it wasn't real. It would never _be_ real. _He_ would never look at Dumbledore that way.

Still, Dumbledore watched and felt and wanted. Most of anything, he _wanted_. His hands touched cool glass when he reached to caress those curls but he liked to imagine his touch was felt. That young face filled with a longing Dumbledore had never really seen there.

As the days, weeks, months, _years, __**decades**_ went by… Dumbledore started to believe a little more that there had been something there. There must have been. Had to.

His nails creaked against the smooth surface. He almost glared at the loving face looking back at him. There _had_ been something. It was too fragile to last. They hadn't had the time. That was why…_that_ was why…why…

He let out a shuddering breath. It was getting harder and harder as time went on to keep from storming the prison, finding _him_, freeing _him_ from captors that didn't understand _his_ brilliance, _his_ worth…

He wasn't strong enough yet, but he would be. A smile crossed his lips. Yes, he would be soon and then nothing would ever stop them. Dumbledore had been betrayed by his own convictions once. He wouldn't let it happen again.

"Just wait for me, old friend," he whispered and the glass fogged under his lips as those eyes softened and he felt a phantom touch upon his cheek. "Just wait. Our time will come soon. So soon…"

A knock at the door. Dumbledore wrenched himself away from the mirror and covered it over. He took a moment to calm his heart. The idiot thing liked to jump at his age. A flick of his wand was all it took to let his visitor in.

Minerva gave him a concerned glance. She did that more and more often now and he wondered if his age was showing more thoroughly. Minerva wasn't young herself, but that was beside the point.

"I thought we could go over a few things before the students arrive this week," she said, one hand twitching a bit to make the parchment she held suddenly obvious. A little thing, she didn't even know she'd done it. Dumbledore knew the habit well but he'd been watching her for a very long time. She hesitated. "I can come back later if you'd like. Perhaps with supper."

"No, now is quite fine," Dumbledore murmured, giving her a smile. "Make yourself at home."

It seemed that Minerva always reminded him of his duties outside his ambitions and that was, perhaps, the way it should be.

----

Harry didn't waste time with pleasantries. Voldemort wondered if he ever would and felt an odd little stab of hurt because he doubted it would ever happen. There was still too much anger in the boy, anger that seemed to have become more alive for him in the last day or so and completely overtaking the depression that had filled him. Voldemort wasn't sure which better but figured neither was healthy. Still, the boy wouldn't listen to him and Narcissa wasn't here to give her quiet advice. Neither would Lupin or Black be of assistance. As for Snape, Voldemort felt a little odd about talking to him of Harry. He didn't know what it meant or why he felt so, but he kept begging off asking Narcissa. The vulnerability of needing to was understandable enough.

"I will not use your Death Eaters," Harry started once he and Voldemort had gotten themselves settled. The Dark Lord lifted a brow but simply nodded and Harry went on. "Instead, I will gather my own group. We will work independently from you, will not assist you in anything I don't deem necessary, and will be answerable to myself alone."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes as he thought about that. "I have nothing against those considerations…as long as you don't prevent me from my own workings."

"I may," Harry said stubbornly, "if you are doing things I don't approve of."

"You'll find I do the same, then," Voldemort replied. Harry scowled at him.

"If we have problems with one another, we should come to one another first," the boy said after thinking a few moments. "Don't punish my comrades and I won't kill yours."

Voldemort conceded to that and they went to the next topic.

"I want Severus Snape." Harry's eyes were diamond hard. He would not be persuaded from that point. Voldemort folded his arms over his chest, frowning.

"I refuse," he said coolly. Son or not, Voldemort was not about to weaken his forces in such a way. Snape was not only a master of potions but also one of subterfuge and one of the most intelligent men the Dark Lord had ever known. Losing such a valuable member of his ranks…

"He wants to help me. I asked him," Harry said stubbornly, eyes narrow. "Whether he's your man or not, he'll have his energies divided. I will use the help he's volunteered whether you like it or not."

Idly, Voldemort decided this was the teenage rebellion stage he'd heard some of his underlings complain about.

"I reserve the right to pull him away from whatever you've got him doing," he grumbled. A spark of triumph went through Harry's gaze as he nodded and thankfully didn't smile.

They spent a while debating over Narcissa Malfoy, who Voldemort didn't really have any claim over but was loathe to give over to Harry explicitly. Of course, the boy hadn't spoken to her yet as she'd left the manor, but she was too important for Voldemort to spare. They decided finally that Harry could ask what he wanted of her but it would be up to Narcissa herself what she decided to do. Next was Draco, who Voldemort gave up without a fight. The boy was useless to him for the time being, though he had been planning to have his father train him before Lucius got himself caught and Voldemort's change of heart began.

Harry asked of the Zabini family, but they were a neutral party. Never had any of their number joined the Dark Lord's forces and he didn't expect they ever would, nor would they join up with anyone else. The family was savvy enough not bruise egos in their refusals and for this reason had survived countless generations doing just what they were up to now. Voldemort wondered what the boy's interest in them was but dismissed the thoughts after a bit.

With no one else in mind to be converted, Harry wrenched instead a true promise of Voldemort's not to involve himself in Harry's affairs with his group. The Dark Lord found himself agreeing without truly meaning to under the force of Harry's immovability. The boy was far stronger than he gave him credit for.

Harry left and Voldemort ruminated in his quarters after, wishing Narcissa were around to speak with. Things often felt clearer and better once he'd spoken to her on them. Instead, he merely stared into the fire and let his thoughts circle one another.

----

Narcissa dropped the small ring into a pouch she then stuffed into a pocket of her robes. Her hands were dirty, dust covered her clothing and hair, and she had the distinct notion that she would never be able to smell anything ever again.

The house, if one could call it that, had been left in such a state of disuse that, as it was already in such disrepair when it had been inhabited, could have fallen in around her at any moment. She hated being there. Her skin crawled as she watched little crawly things move about in the darkened space. There was dusty light filtering in from the boarded up window, but it was barely anything to see by. She'd cast lumos during her search but quickly dismissed the spell once it wasn't needed yet. The half-light hid some of the less than pleasant sights of the shack.

With her duty finished there, she started to leave when the light went dark for a moment. Instantly, she hid herself in the rubble near the door and ignored the crawling of her skin. A quiet spell masked sound and smell from her, a second rendering her invisible. Very few wizards and witches were sensitive enough to sense magic being cast but she was willing to risk it since most couldn't.

The door creaked open. She dared not aparate for fear of having her trail followed. Why anyone would come here was beyond her. She watched carefully as a tall man in covering robes stepped through the door. Light streamed around him, obscuring further, but there was little need. The hood drawn down over his face kept any recognition impossible.

He rooted around a while and she had to move twice to keep from being discovered. Though he said nothing, she could see frustration mounting from the way he moved. Abruptly, he gave up what ever search he'd been on and left. A crack just outside the door signaled his departure. Narcissa slowly came out of hiding and frowned.

He had known to come here and she came to a very nasty conclusion. The man was after the ring. The only reason one would…

Narcissa left quickly and doubled her speed in searching for the rest of the items Voldemort wanted.

----

It took Harry a full day before he could face Ron. That gave the redhead enough time to burn through most of his anger and leave only a well of hurt and resentment. Harry tried to understand that, but the weight of his ambitions was pressing strong. He had to convince Ron to listen to him. He could write the Weasleys himself, but he needed Ron with him. He needed that stability. Hermione, he wasn't worried about bringing to his side. Ginny would come with her.

He had to have Ron with him before he could face Remus and Sirius.

Swallowing thickly, Harry stood in front of Ron's door and stared at the doorknob. He felt extremely nervous, more so than even when talking to Voldemort. Ron could easily refuse to see him and Harry knew he'd been a total prat before but he was going to fix it. He would make Ron understand and then they would be okay again.

The door opened without him touching it. Ron froze as he noted the presence on the other side and frowned. He didn't speak, just staring back at Harry and waiting. The black haired boy swallowed thickly.

"Hey," he said, stupid as it sounded.

"Hey," Ron muttered back without moving. They stared a while longer and Harry heard shuffling about behind Ron that meant the girls were there, too. That made him a bit more nervous.

"I'm a prat," he blurted.

"Yes, you are," Ron said coolly. "A grade A prat."

Harry fought down resentment over _Ron's_ resentment. He was trying to apologize here! Ron could give him a break.

"I was wrong."

"Yes, you were."

Harry scowled. Ron just stared at him, almost bored.

"Bloody hell, Ron, I'm sorry already!" he exploded angrily. Ron finally frowned at him.

"About time," he grumbled. "I was wondering how long it'd take for you to say it."

"You cruel beast," Harry growled back, but the anger was waning now that Ron wasn't icing him out anymore.

"I suppose I was a bit distraught," Ron said, shrugging a shoulder. He opened the door wider to admit Harry in. Harry took the invitation and though they were both still a bit rattled over one another, things would fix now. Harry could tell them about his plan and they would start getting everything organized.

Hermione and Ginny sat on the bed with exasperated expressions.

"…_Boys_," the elder of the two finally said with a roll of her eyes. Ginny just nodded in reply.

----

_There was pure terror in the school. Students moved about in panicked groups, their wide eyes looking this way and that, looking for an enemy they knew nothing about. There were whispers that the accidents would continue, that they'd get worse with time. They wondered who would be next petrified. _

_He watched them, taking an odd sort of glee in how easy it had been to bring them such fear even as another part of him was horrified. There had been no deaths, of course. He was careful. Still, five students in the hospital wing were waiting for mature mandrakes to free them from their bodily prisons. _

_The teachers were doing everything he said. They were mindless with fear and the need to protect their charges. They couldn't do anything, but they tried and somehow, that made him happy. _

_In all the chaos, he watched the boy. Tom thought he was going insane. He listened to the boy's thoughts, saw the horror and terror within them, and smiled. Tom thought he was cursed, seeing the attacks in his dreams only to wake up and find another fellow child in the hospital wing. It was ridiculously easy to manipulate him then. _

_And then one girl died. It had been a accident, but that wouldn't bring her back. Aurors scoured the place after a coroner had removed the child's body. She'd died instantly and though her spirit showed up only an hour after being removed, she had no idea what had killed her. _

_There was talk of closing the school. Tom contemplated suicide because he was convinced he'd somehow caused the attacks. He kept dreaming of traveling the school and finding victims, of the satisfaction in watching the girl die. He couldn't let his tool kill himself. _

_The attacks mysteriously stopped and it was everything he could do the rest of the year to heal the boy enough to go on. Somehow, he managed to convince Tom that the dreams hadn't been real, hadn't been anything but dreams. Tom believed him because he was desperate to have that sin off his soul. _

_He felt almost sorry for the child he was polluting, but…. It was for the greater good. _

----

**A/N:** Dude. I planned from the beginning of this to add in a Dumbledore/Grindewald thing before hearing Rowling's statement on the matter. I've been waiting to GET the chance to! That scene was written almost six MONTHS ago...For some reason, I feel a bit gypped now…. Anywho, if you recognize lines in the last scene, that was deliberated.

...And dear gods. I can't believe I wrote another chapter in a few days. ::dies:: Lets hope I don't set that fanatical one-chapter-a-day pace I had on The Phoenix Follies... ::shiver:: Plot bunnies been nibblin' at my toes. And...new conditions met! Number 6 I threw in because it's obviously happening. Amazingly enough, there's only one condition I haven't met yet (disreguarding number 7, which will be finished by next chap), but the story is still only about half done at most. Well, plotline wise. I'm not sure how long it'll actually be. The friendships and relationships keep slowing shit up.

No one brought up questions I can say anything about, so...see you next chap. Oh, and...huzzah! We're at 151 pages!

_Conditions Met (since I forgot last time):_  
1. Voldemort must be Harry's father  
2. Severus and Harry both eventually are loyal to Voldemort  
3. Sirius comesback  
4. Black and Lupin side with Harry  
5. Dumbledore is the actual bad guy  
6. Voldemort is kind.  
**7. Harry gets his own group (UNFINISHED)  
**8. Draco must be in the group.

**Beta's Note:** I SOOOOOOOOO never saw the Dumbles/Grin thingie coming. Where does JK come up with this stuff? NEway, all mistakes are the fault of the beta, ME! So, yeah. REVIEW!!!


	23. A Wise Old Owl

**Another Life**

**Warnings:** Yaoi/Slash, Angst, DARK themes, Backstabbing, Incest, Yuri/Fem-slash, and other various nastiness. Hard R rating.  
**Disclaimer:** Ain't mine.

**Thanks to Ebony Rayne for beta-ing!**

**Chapter 22  
A Wise Old Owl**

It had taken more prodding than Harry liked to admit to get Voldemort to agree on letting the Weasleys have access to the manor. Since Draco was technically the owner in Narcissa's absence, Voldemort finally put the matter in his hands and then was rather surprised when Draco gave the go ahead. He had been banking on Draco's continued dislike for Weasleys in general but only sighed a little and left the matter be. After Draco gave Harry the specific instructions one needed to find the house and get in, Harry had Ron owl them off to Mrs. Weasley.

"So, we need a name," Harry said with a shrug. "Something that won't connect to Voldemort-"

Ron still shivered at the name but the other two boys ignored him. They were in the library again, sitting around their table and brainstorming. The girls were off doing something but hadn't invited them, so Ron had deigned to stick around even with Draco there.

"Something that sounds strong and powerful..." Harry tapped his chin thoughtfully, "and hopefully not frightening."

"I suppose Neo-Death Eaters is out then," Draco muttered with a roll of his eyes. Ron shot him a dirty look.

"No shit, Sherlock," he shot back with a scowl. Draco's lips pursed and Harry sighed a bit, knowing what was inevidibly coming. He'd started to understand that his emnity with Draco had never been as deep or red hot as that between the blond and his best friend.

"When I give a non-retorical statement, Weasel, then your imput might be warrented," Draco drawled. "Not that the words of a hanger-on are ever that important."

Harry felt like he was a hundred miles away for all the impact he could have. He saw the rage burning, coiling, and then, in slow motion, saw it leap. Ron's fist slammed into Draco's face. The blonde's head jerked and then he struck and it was on from there. The two fell upon each other in a flailing heap on the ground and Harry had half a mind to just let them kill each other.

Alas, that hero instinct reared its ugly head. Harry sighed as he got into the middle of it and started tearing the two combatants away from each other. They fought him just as hard as they fought each other, but a strike to Ron's middle with Harry's elbow and a glancing blow to Draco's shoulder from Harry's fist finally managed the deed. They both stumbled back, holding on the injuries, and Harry glared at the both of them.

"How old are you guys? Four?" he asked with audible disappointment, folding his arms over his chest. Ron gave him a betrayed look and opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to just decide it wasn't worth it.

"Fine. I'm obviously not needed here," he snarled instead and then he left. Harry sighed a little, running a hand back through his hair.

"That takes care of one distraction," Draco mumbled and Harry turned on him with a glare.

"Stop antagonizing him," Harry said sternly and Draco raised a brow as if to ask when Harry had gotten the authority to order him around. "Ron's trying to be civil, Draco. He's really trying. But you keep being an ass."

"You're blaming it all on me?" Draco asked angrily, almost betrayed.

"There's equal blame," Harry replied. He was not going to let this up. "I need Ron. I need you, too. Most of all, I need to know that I can count on the two of you. This pack dominance thing you two have going stops now."

"Tell him that," the blonde snarled. Harry scowled.

"I will," he replied cooly. "Both of you are acting like babies and it's annoying. We'll never get anything done if we keep fighting each other."

Draco folded his arms over his chest and looked away angrily. "Fine. You keep him from annoying me and I'll ignore his existance."

Harry sighed a bit, but he conceeded to that. It was better than an outright refusal. Draco's pride was tricky to manage.

"So.. do you have any serious suggestions for a name?" Harry asked, trying to leave the fight behind them. Draco gave him a weary look, then sat back down on the floor next to the low table, resting his head on one fist. Harry settled down beside him.

"You don't want to be frightening, right?" Draco murmured as he thought about it. "Well.. It still needs strength. What about coining something quasi-military?"

Harry blinked but didn't outright shoot it down, so Draco went on.

"Military groups sound strong," the blonde murmured. "They don't necessarily have to be frightening, but they are intimidating which is something we do need. We need to show the enemy that we are a threat, but not so much of one that they rally normal people against us."

"I suppose I get it.." Harry murmured thoughtfully. "But I don't like the idea of being called an army."

"Well, there's always corps or division, or brigade-" Harry gave a particularly sour look that the last that nearly made Draco laugh, "Regiment, battalion, squadron-"

"How come you know so much about this?" Harry asked with a slightly suspicious look.

"Father had a secret passion for muggle military and wars," Draco replied with a shrug. "He thought it would be good for me to learn tactics of muggles since wizards wouldn't expect that kind of fighting. You can learn a lot from muggles... not that they aren't still very inferior."

Harry shook his head a bit ruefully, then said, "Well, I haven't liked any of them you've said yet. Are there more?"

"Of course." Draco started ticking off his fingers as he listed. "Battery, troop, platoon, squad, fireteam.. I'm forgetting one. It was...Ah. Company."

Harry blinked a little. "Company?"

"Yes. Usually somewhere between seventy to over two hundred troops," Draco replied. Harry didn't really care what number of troops the word implied, but the word itself seemed... just what he wanted.

"That's good. Company," Harry murmured, mind racing. "But it's unfinished. There should be something more to it."

Draco sat back a bit, thinking. "You're right. It needs more...but at least it's a start."

Harry wasn't happy that he hadn't gotten the name figured out completely but he had to agree that it was a start. Once Ron had cooled down and the girls were back, he'd talk to them about it. He found his eyes sliding back over to Draco, watching the other teen as he quietly contemplated some dust specks in a shaft of sunlight. He liked it when Draco was calm because he looked serene and untouched by everything else. It calmed Harry in turn.

"Draco," he asked, feeling a sudden nervousness. Cool gray eyes settled on his face with vague curiosity. "Draco, I have to go back to school."

The blonde was quiet a moment, then nodded a bit. "I was wondering how long it would take you to figure that one out."

"I know your mum offered to get tutors, but we need to be seen and we need to gain more people." Draco didn't stop him, so Harry went on. "I want to talk to some of the teachers. They might have seen the same things in Dumbledore that we have. Or something. I don't know."

"Either way, I think making sure Dumbledore knows you're not afraid to step outside of this protection is the important part, really," Draco said with a shrug. "Right now, he probably thinks he can still cow you into submission."

Harry frowned at the idea. "Yeah... So, I have to go back and I.. I really don't…want to go alone."

Draco lifted a brow. "And you think I'd let you?"

Harry felt a sudden burst of relief. He dragged his hand down his face, suddenly feeling a little shaky from stress he hadn't known he was experiencing. Draco reached over and touched his arm and Harry gave him a small smile of appreciation then-

Lips brushed his lightly and he noticed that Draco was suddenly close, that he'd... They brushed again with more solidarity and Harry felt a hand touching his cheek and he was responding to the light pressure-

Then Harry found his back on the floor. He realized belatedly that he was being kissed soundly. His fingers fisted tightly in soft blonde hair and he felt firm touches to his neck and face and shoulders. Hard muscle pressed to bony planes of flesh and it didn't matter what belonged to who because it just felt so good suddenly, and there were teeth at his lip and he heard a faint, shaky moan and then wet tongue against his own, sending shivers down his spine and making him feel something he hadn't felt before because it was better than Cho, better than any dream and- and-

And he was kissing Draco Malfoy.

It seemed to hit both of them at the same exact time because they suddenly jerked from one another in perfect tandem. Draco scuttled back a few feet and Harry sat up and they proceeded to stare at one another. Harry watched Draco's chest move as he panted, saw the red flush to his cheeks, the bruised pink to his lips, the glitter in his eyes, his mussed hair, and a startling realization settled itself in Harry's mind: he found the whole effect quite a bit more attractive than he ever should have and that frightened him.

The seconds ticked by but neither of them could move or look away. They started to recover their breath, the flushed faces slowly paled back to normal, and the magic of the moment wore off. Draco finally broke the stare as he quickly got up, running his fingers through his hair to straighten it. Harry didn't know if he could stand.

"I'm sorry," Draco said suddenly and Harry looked up at him but the blonde had his back to him. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. It won't happen again."

Harry saw tension in his shoulders and his fists were curled at his sides. He didn't know if there was anything he could say to the blonde, or even anything he wanted to say. Draco seemed to take that as an answer in and of itself. Without another word, he left and Harry ended up staying there for quite a while as he tried to figure through his own confused feelings.

----

Tonks was in a bit of a tizzy. She'd been asked to find an unplotable house with no idea where it might be anyway and only the name of Malfoy to guide her. The Malfoy family was as old as time and just as powerful even with their monarch in jail. Of course, Lucius Malfoy had escaped only a little while ago but there were no signs of him anywhere. The ancestral Malfoy home was no longer in any records save the deed that had been rendered unreadable unless someone of Malfoy blood was touching it, so there was no way they could use that to search for him. So, here was Tonks, looking for that exact place. She knew it was somewhere in or around Wiltshire, but so far, her efforts were for not.

The place might as well not exist.

Still, Tonks persevered. She searched high and low, never giving up…

Until an owl sudden showed up and dropped a note into her hands. It was quick and to the point.

"_Cease searching for the Malfoys immediately. _

_-D"_

Oh, Tonks did all the right spells to make sure it was authentic, but she still felt riled that all that work was suddenly for naught. She huffed and took herself back to London for the Order meeting that evening at Grimauld place, and, hopefully, Dumbledore would be there to give her a damn answer.

The full Order had gathered by the time Tonks got there. She was surprised but tried not to show it as they gathered in the kitchen. Then she saw Dumbledore. He looked tired, strained, and older than she'd ever seen him. The twinkle in his eyes was gone. He looked fragile and her heart leapt out to him.

"Thank you for gathering so quickly," Dumbledore murmured and Tonks assumed his letters to the others had been a bit lengthier than her own. "I know most of you were attending your duties and I know most of you are wondering why I have asked that some of those duties be forgotten."

'No shit,' Tonks thought privately.

"Since losing Severus," there were a few grumbles to this, "I have had to rely on another source for information of Voldemort's activities. I'm afraid I cannot reveal this source to you all yet, but know it is trustworthy. This source has informed me of what has become of dear Harry."

This instantly got attention. There were murmurs, then outright demands, to know about the boy. He was well loved after all, and the last any of them had seen of him, he was broken beyond help.

"Quiet now," Dumbledore admonished gently. "Harry is recovering well, under the circumstances, but he has been compromised. We can assume that Voldemort has brainwashed him."

"Then we have to find the boy and rescue him now!" Moody growled out, arms crossing over his chest. "Before the brainwashing sets."

There were agreements but Dumbledore raised a hand to quiet them.

"I'm afraid that isn't necessary," he murmured and then smiled a little. "You see, Harry has decided to return to Hogwarts."

Tonks blinked in surprise. The Dark Lord would let Harry out of his grip? Did that mean Harry was brainwashed well enough that the Dark Lord didn't think he would turn?

"It is reasonable to assume that the other missing children with Harry will return to Hogwarts as well," Dumbledore continued. "We will do what we can there."

September first was tomorrow. A lot of planning was to be had…

----

Molly and Arthur arrived at half past noon. Draco awaited them at the apparation point he'd told Harry about, for he, and the other teens, had decided it would be safer than letting Harry do it. Neither Weasley were very happy to see Draco but they were at least civil.

"Follow me and don't stray," Draco told them, hands in his trouser pockets. "There are way more protections than you want to deal with on this place."

Arthur made a bit of a face at getting talked to in such a way, but the two adults heeded Draco's words. They followed him through a winding path, the guest path, actually, since only blood relatives and keyed individuals could get through the short way. The path wound around the whole property but Draco never got lost. He'd had the way pounded into his mind enough times to get it right.

Finally, he got the Weasleys through the last protective barrier and into the house itself. Harry and the rest of the children were there to meet them.

Molly let out a soft sound before she grabbed Ron and Ginny up, hugging them tightly with a little sob. Arthur watched, smiling with relief to see his children well and whole. Molly then turned on Hermione and Harry with the same reaction. Hermione just smiled while Harry clasped the woman back tightly.

When the meeting was over finally, Harry led them to a sitting room.

"You're probably wondering why I've asked you here," Harry said once everyone was settled. "Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and Draco already know what I've been up to but we've decided to include certain adults as well."

He then started to explain, first about why he was in Malfoy Manor in the first place, Voldemort's supposed turn around, Severus and Lupin, and, when he got to Sirius, Molly swooned a little. Harry was glad he'd decided not to bring his godfather in until later. Then he got to explaining his thoughts on Dumbledore, the answers he wanted, and his plans for creating a group of his own much like the Order, but under his own guidance.

"This is al very big, Harry," Arthur murmured when Harry went silent. "It's a lot to take in."

"I know," the boy said quietly, arms folded over his chest defensively. "I've asked Draco to key you into the house's protections so you can come and go. I know it's a lot, and it's okay if you want to go and think about helping me."

"Oh, Harry," said Molly as she got up and quickly embraced him. "It's not that. We'll always be there to help you and this is no exception. You're as much family to us as our own children. That won't ever change. There are some things we need to think about, but we will help you in whatever ways we can. You don't have to take everything on your own shoulders!"

Harry blushed a little at the attention, but he didn't pull away as she continued to hold him and pet his hair.

"That's right," Arthur seconded. "We're behind you, Harry."

"Thank you," murmured Harry very, very quietly around the lump in his throat.

After that, they brought in Sirius, Remus, and Snape so the adults could talk. It was then that Harry remembered he'd forgotten to tell the three men of his plans and had to go over them again. Sirius and Remus were both worried but didn't tell him to stop. Snape was his usual, pensive self about the whole thing.

"You'll need to think of a symbol," Sirius said at last once the talking had died down. Harry hadn't thought about that but nodded.

A symbol… Symbols could be very powerful things. He'd have to think deeply on it and now he had help. Draco had been right. He'd needed it.

He glanced over at the blonde boy and found that Draco's eyes were on him as well. The stare lasted less than a second before they both looked away.

----

Narcissa did not enjoy speaking with Bellatrix Lestrange and tended to avoid her whenever possible. The woman was insane. Even being her sister would not make Narcissa any fonder of her. Still, sometimes one had to do what one did not wish to.

Bellatrix wasn't happy to give up her vault key but wilted immediately when Narcissa told her it was on the Dark Lord's orders. The Lestranges were fanatically loyal and Narcissa had suspicions that Bellatrix's loyalty might be rooted in some deeper feeling for Voldemort. The thought made Narcissa feel uncomfortable.

The goblins, after a quite a bit of fuss and grumbling, led Narcissa down to the Lestrange vault. The old vault was huge and brimming with wealth, but Narcissa had seen more galleons in one place before, so she felt little about the whole thing. Searching through carefully, mindful of traps Bellatrix had told her of, she searched out the item held there.

The cup was very pretty but Narcissa dropped it into her bag without lingering to examine it then left Gringotts to get back to her quest.

----

Harry didn't know how to talk about this. He didn't know how to start or even speak one word on the matter. Unfortunately, Snape was disinclined to read his mind and find out. So, they stayed in silence as Snape brewed a nasty scented potion that bubbled merrily along. Harry sat by the door in a rickity wooden chair that felt as if it could break at any moment. He concentrated on the rough texture under his fingers as he gripped the arm rests, the discomfort of the seat, and the splinter he just knew was going to jab into his neck from the back of the chair.

It wasn't helping to take his mind off anything. Harry wondered if it was possible to die of mortification.

"Snape," he finally murmured, and, though the man didn't look at him, he knew he'd been heard, "Have you ever liked anyone?"

"I suppose there are some people less annoying than others," Snape replied quietly as he added a new ingredient that made the brew smell that much worse. Harry frowned a bit.

"I don't mean like that. I mean... liked someone. Like like." He blushed and felt rather childish to put it that way.

"Ah, have I been attracted to anyone, you mean? Speak clearly, boy." Harry bristled a little. "Everyone feels physical attractions, Harry. It's normal, especially for someone your age."

"But...but what if..." Somehow, he just couldn't make himself ask 'but what if it's a boy.' Snape glanced at him from over his shoulder and lifted a brow.

"Look, I can't help you if you don't ask actual questions."

Harry looked at the floor. Snape let him stew in silence for a while before he finally sighed.

"It seems to me that the only problem you could have is that the person you like is either taken or someone you would rather not like."

Harry jerked his head up at the second and Snape gave a small nod.

"The latter, I'm thinking," the older man murmured. Harry bit his lip.

"Yes. Sort of. I think."

Snape turned back to his potion and tended it quietly. Harry stared at his back, waiting for the great solution to his problem because, if anyone could give him one, it would be Snape. The man was silent for a long time, but Harry still waited.

"How long have you liked this person?" he asked finally. Harry blinked and wondered why that mattered.

"Well.. Not long, really... I mean, for a while I hated- but then it was nice and now-" Harry stopped with Snape glanced over his shoulder with a lifted brow. Taking a moment to compose himself, he realized he couldn't really explain things without mentioning the gender of the other person. If he just said "someone" Snape would have to wonder why he hadn't called that someone a girl or "she". He swallowed and hoped with everything he had that this didn't damn him farther than he'd already dropped. "He's been really nice to me recently."

Snape blinked once and looked back at his potion. "I see the problem."

Harry's heart went cold. This was it. This was the prequel to rejection, and, without Snape, he couldn't do it, he couldn't do any of it, and they would fail and Dumbledore or the Dark Lord or whoever would destroy everything and- and- Harry managed to work himself into quite a panic before Snape finally spoke again.

"Harry, homosexuality is not the taboo for wizards that it is for muggles." Harry stared at him without comprehending, looking pale and a little shaky. Snape still hadn't turned to look at him again. "I understand your hesitance to mention being attracted to a male, but your nervousness is misplaced. Most families would prefer their young to produce offspring of their own, but a child is very unlikely to be condemned simply for his sexual preference."

Harry let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Therefore, if that was your greatest concern, consider yourself comforted," Snape went on. "If it was my own reaction to such a confession, I have no say over your personal life and would rather it stay that way. I am not your father."

"Would he..." Harry swallowed thickly. "He and Mum. Would they..."

"No. Your mother was exceptionally open minded for a muggleborn and Potter, idiot and bastard that he was-" Harry felt a spark of amusement from this that soothed the nervous tension in his body- "would still have accepted it in time."

"Okay." Harry closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead a bit as relief flooded him. "Okay."

"Do you wish to speak further on the subject of your beau to be?"

Harry blushed and gave a shaky laugh. "Maybe later?"

"As you will." For some reason, Harry thought Snape might have been a little relieved over that.

----

_There were smiling faces and cheering all over the school as the seventh years said their goodbyes to Hogwarts. Parties were being planned for the summer, vacations gushed about, and a few spoke of continuing education as apprentices or finding jobs immediately. Many were staying in the family while others were drawn to Ministry work or other vocations. He rather liked listening to them usually, but their little lives didn't interest him now, really. _

_Tom, as usual, was not celebrating with the rest of them. He stayed off to his own, watching them all with eyes that were too old. Tom hadn't recovered from the death and fear of their sixth year. He was quiet, pensive, and no amount of coaxing could erase the damage. _

_Tom glanced up when he strode to him but said nothing. _

"_You aren't happy to leave, Tom?" _

"_I am, I guess. It just seems like I've got more of myself here than anywhere else. I love Hogwarts." _

"_I notice that when you say that, you don't smile." _

_Tom shook his head a little, then tucked a lock of black behind his ear. "No. I have bad memories here, but it's important to me. Hogwarts, that is." _

"_That's understandable." _

_Tom was quiet, watching as a few girls hugged one another, sobbing on each other's shoulders. _

"_Everything changes now, doesn't it?" he murmured softly. "We're adults now. Apparently ready for the world. It's time to go out and get jobs and build families…" _

"_Do you feel ready?" _

"_No. No, I'm terrified of being out there. I'm alone, sir. I have no one. From now on, I'm purely responsible for myself and that scares the piss out of me." _

"_Language, Mr. Riddle." _

_Tom sighed a bit, closing his eyes. "Sorry. Anyway, I'll be okay. I'm just scared right now, but that doesn't mean I'm just gonna run away from it all." _

"_I'm glad to hear that." _

"_Thanks for listening," Tom said as he got up and dusted off his slacks. "It means a lot." _

"_I'm always here to listen if you need it, Tom. Even after you've left Hogwarts for good." _

_Tom left then to finish packing. He watched the boy walk. Tom had a confident stride, regardless of the fears and anxieties that plagued him like every other boy. He saw this and then turned to go back to his office. The next stage of Tom's development was already planned, and time would bring it to fruition. _

----

A/N: And, at long last, new chapter! And...Lookie there, we finally have some slash. Happy now?

Now to you guy's comments:

Yay insane Dumbledore!! About Dumbles/Grin, I found that reveal to be hilarious since J.K. said there'd be no slash in the books. Technically, I suppose she's right, but it still made me laugh a bit.

Voldie's trust for Cissy is juuuust beginning to show itself, kiddies.

Ron and Hermione are not gonna be left back from harry. He's just having troubles being friends to them AND dealing with all the stuff going on in his world.

About Harry's treatment from the muggles, yes, it was going on before 5th year but escalated during the fifth summer.

_Conditions Met (since I forgot last time):_  
1. Voldemort must be Harry's father  
2. Severus and Harry both eventually are loyal to Voldemort  
3. Sirius comesback  
4. Black and Lupin side with Harry  
5. Dumbledore is the actual bad guy  
6. Voldemort is kind.  
**7. Harry gets his own group (UNFINISHED)**  
8. Draco must be in the group.


End file.
